


homemade dynamite

by resfeber



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mafia AU, xukun stop being an angsty asshole challenge: failed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-05-04 01:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14582265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resfeber/pseuds/resfeber
Summary: xukun asks for more than just zhengting's life in exchange for the release of his brothersormafia au where mafia boss xukun holds chengstin hostage after they commit crimes against his gang and his condition for their release is the trade off of their leader, zhu zhengting





	1. a deal

**Author's Note:**

> this is based on a cc prompt written by miss @zhengtingslut on twitter and it can be found here: https://twitter.com/zhengtingslut/status/990440621176508423

November in Beijing is cold, so cold, in fact, that the hard metal of the handcuffs scraping against Justin’s wrists is enough to send a sharp chill down the spine of his back. Not that his attire is anywhere near appropriate for the eight inches of snow outside and the basement’s thin wall anyway. Cai Xukun’s men didn’t exactly give him time to grab a jacket before they knocked him unconscious, gagged him, and brought him to their base.

“Cheng. Fan Chengcheng. _Wake_ _up_.”

The gangly body near him shifts, signaling that the boy was awake.

“How long has it been?” Chengcheng grits through his teeth, breathing still labored from the remnants of the wounds he has acquired in the past few hours.

“Half a day, maybe longer. Chengcheng, listen, we gotta get out the next time they come in here.” Justin squints through the miniscule openings of the bag over his head, trying to make out Chengcheng’s location based on the sound of his voice and a blurry outline to no avail.

“We’re not exactly party guests, Justin. They’ll put a bullet through our heads before we can even move.” Before Justin could reply, Chengcheng hacks once, twice before falling to the ground, the loud thump leaving behind a dreadful lump that makes its way up Justin’s throat.

“Chengcheng? Chengcheng? What happened? Answer me. Chengcheng-” The feeling of icy metal pressing against his left temple makes the rest of the sentence die on his tongue. He hasn’t noticed the footsteps coming in.

How long have they been standing there?

“Huang Minghao. Meimei said she missed you." Cai Xukun’s voice permeates the room. The finger that strokes his cheek is gentle and feather-light, but Justin understands its implications more than anything else. Xukun’s icy tone tells him that one wrong word and it would become his last. "The poor girl even threatened me with suicide, do you know how heartbreaking it is to watch your baby sister cry her eyes out over a boy?”

He shudders.

“Xukun. We never poached your territory. And whatever Meimei told you, it's a lie. You should know this better than anyone, just ask Ziyi- ,” a sharp cry from his right interrupts his plea, one he horrifyingly recognizes as Chengcheng’s. “Chengcheng! What the _fuck_ did you do to him?”

"A lie, hm?"

Something that sounds eerily close to a punch or a kick, followed by another pained gasp has Justin yanking against his handcuffs, the feeling of powerlessness nearly drowning him.

“I’m gonna ask you to do something for me, Justin. I’ll say it once, and you will do exactly as I say, do you understand?”

He can feel Xukun’s soundless footsteps nearing, the distance closing in.

“ _Fuck_ _you_. Let us go. I’m not doing shit for you.”

The blinding light washes over him before he could even feel Xukun pulling the bag off his head. The sight that greets him makes Justin wish he never did. Chengcheng is pushed to his knees by two towering bodies, one of whom he recognizes as a sniper named Bufan according to his files. His attention, however, is aimed at the thin line of blood slowly trickling down Chengcheng’s bruised cheek and the shiny black metal pressed between his eyebrows, both of which are squeezed tight in agony.

“Xukun. Wait. Wait. _Please._ I’ll do it. Just- just put the gun down. Please. Xukun,” Justin gasps, all the fight leaving his body. “I’m sorry. _Please."_

“Answer my question.”

The gun is pressed even tighter to Chengcheng's head and the metal burns against Justin's wrists.

“ _Yes_. Yes. I understand. Now let him go.”

The other guard, Mu Ziyang, releases Chengcheng's limp body and pulls a phone out of his back pocket at a snap of Xukun’s fingers. The boy looks worse for wear, but there is no gun being pressed to his head ready to blow it off at any second, which is more than enough for now.

Justin is preoccupied with scanning his partner for other injuries until-

“It’s been awhile, Zhengting.”

The sound of their leader’s name has both Justin and Chengcheng snapping up in horror.  _Of course._ Of course this is about Zhengting, how could he be as foolish as to think otherwise?

Xukun seems to be able to sense the rising tension in the room with every second that ticks past. He clicks the speaker.

“ _Give them back to me, Xukun.”_

Zhengting’s voice is a veiled by mask of equanimity, but Justin doesn’t miss the sliver of fear that laces it. His heart sinks.

Xukun’s growing smirk tells him that he probably senses Zhengting’s insecurity, too, and it suddenly reminds Justin that their history precedes both him and Chengcheng, stretching far beyond anything they could ever understand. This is not his battle to fight.

“Or what, sweetheart?”

“ _This is not a threat. This is a negotiation. Give them back to me.”_

Xukun spins his gun by its trigger once, twice, before letting it land with a deafening clank on the table. Bufan and Ziyang stiffen and exchange a look. The only negotiations Xukun is involved in are ones that end in body bags and erased identities.

“Who should I shoot first?” Xukun whispers into the phone, enjoying each and every word as he imagines the grimace spreading across Zhengting’s flawless features. “Chengcheng, who cost me billions and a run-in with those pig officers. Or your youngest Justin, who broke my Meimei’s heart? Your twins are a piece of work, Zhengzheng. They have your eyes, though, stubborn, thinking they can take on the whole world.”  
  
“ _The deal is more than enough to cover your loss twofold, Xukun. Take it and let them go.”_

He turns his attention to Justin instead, dangling the device in front of him like a toy. “Justin, remember what I told you before? Tell him you need him. Tell him you need him to come here and save you.”

“You fucking bastard.” Chengcheng coughs before pushing himself up with shaky hands and Justin wants to scream at the idiot. “Zhu Zhengting! We’re fine. Mind your own business and fuck off. If you come here I’ll kill you myself!”

“Oh? So he talks.” The predatory smile doesn’t once leaves Xukun face, his grin only growing wider at the scene.

“ _Chengcheng. Justin. If you will ever only listen to me once in your lives, let it be this time. I promised, remember?”_

Justin can hear the pained exhaustion and desperation seeping in between Zhengting’s every word and it makes him think of how their leader must have felt coming back to an empty hideout with only a number left behind and no clue of whether or not he and Chengcheng are even alive. It doesn’t take long for him to slump forward, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Zhengting, please, we need you. Please come save us.”

“ _Don’t I always?”_

••••••

Zhengting approaches Xukun’s territory like he would a business deal, gaze unwavering and ready to strike at every given opportunity. Xukun’s eyes flicker over Zhengting’s face upon his entrance and he chuckles.

From his appearance alone, no one would ever have guessed Zhu Zhengting is the sole leader of an underground weapon-dealing network. His slender features, a small face with porcelain skin and a sharp jawline, are almost all too deceiving. His eyes are wide and soft, but never kind. Zhengting wears a diplomatic smile at conferences and high-profile cocktail parties, all shiny teeth and breathless laughter, and it’s the very same smile that becomes the last thing his victims see when he runs his dagger swiftly against their throat.

For Xukun, though, it’s those lips that are the most dangerous of all. They spin poisonous lies and after lies, bringing down entire organizations, the same lips that have kissed Xukun like he was the only man in the world while bidding him goodbye all in the same breath.

“I don’t suppose you expect a welcome gift, ‘Ting?”

Zhengting looks up, finally, and drinks in the sight of an older, more refined Xukun. Looking at the man now, he’s suddenly taken back to memories of stolen convertibles and sirens blaring on their tails, two kids laughing carelessly from too many summers ago.

“Where are they, Xukun?” Zhengting is clad in a white low-cut top that hugs the frame of his thin shoulders, always so business casual and clean-cut. Xukun’s eyes lingers where the dip of his collar bones begin and end.  

“What’s the rush, sweetheart? We still have time.”

Zhengting is about to open his mouth to protest when he’s stopped by the sound of a metal door creaking open and the boys in question being shoved inside. 

“You have both our hands cuffed up and there are like five of you! Trust me when I say we’re not running anytime soon,” Justin snarls in the direction of Bufan, who seem to be less than interested in anything their prisoners had to say.

“Chengcheng,” Justin stops his complaining and snaps up and the sound of Zhengting’s voice. “You can stop glaring at me now, you know.”

Chengcheng wishes he has half the mind to curse at Zhengting, but the aching pain his body doesn’t allow him to. Instead, he peers up with a half-lidded glare, “We were fine. We would’ve escaped. Justin was just being stupid. We’re not children anymore, Zhengting-ge.”

Justin is too shocked at Zhengting’s presence to acknowledge Chengcheng’s insult, lips parting into a small gasp, not expecting their leader to have made it here this quickly. How does he even know where this place is? From what the rat holes in the basement have shown them, Cai Xukun’s headquarters is aptly enclosed in mountainous terrain that camouflages itself from the public eye, killing any hope captives like them might have of escaping.

“No, but going behind my back to ransack foreign territory,” Zhengting turns to glare at Justin. “And getting romantically involved with Cai Xukun’s sister? And for what? Petty revenge? You’re  _worse_ than children.”

Zhengting’s words holds no bite, but they both know better than to undermine the gravity behind them. He would never hurt either of them by any means, but establishing order is critical when you live this kind of life. One slip-up could cost them more than their lives and Zhengting understands this better than anyone, which is why he works tirelessly to maintain structure and to make sure that anyone he takes in will not become a liability.

“Cute little setup you have here, Ting. I never took you for the fatherly type, but I guess three years can change a person.” Xukun moves up from his chair and it somehow reminds Zhengting of a throne.

“I see that  _you_ haven’t changed in the slightest bit. This is out of character even for you, though. Tell me, what prompted all” -Zhengting waves his hands in a noncommittal gesture toward his underlings- “this. You wouldn’t waste time and resources on petty crimes. And Meimei was sent abroad two months ago to Germany to recruit, so don’t tell me this is about her.”

“Wow, you even keep up with us, I’m touched.” Xukun says and Zhengting doesn't miss the bitter the undertone. He rarely misses much when it comes to anything that has to do with Xukun. 

Zhengting finally steps forward. “I just have a hard time believing that you’re willing to take up this deal so easily.”

Bufan and Ziyang stiffen at the sudden movement but Xukun flickers a look that told them to stand down.

“Always such a cynic. Don’t you trust me, darling?” Xukun grins and it leaves an unsettling feeling in Zhengting’s stomach.

On Xukun’s cue, Bufan reaches down to uncuff Chengcheng and Justin, who both immediately gravitate toward Zhengting’s side of the room. He silently acknowledges them and grasps both of their shoulders reassuringly.

They don’t notice the way Xukun’s gaze turns icy at the gesture.  

“Happy, happy. The deal was all twenty cities being transferred directly under the Cai’s control in exchange for the release of Huang Justin and Fan Chengcheng, yes?”

Zhengting sucks in a quiet breath. “Yes. I’m not taking back my words if that’s what you think. If the transaction is finished then I suppose we have nothing more to talk about.”

He makes a move to leave until Xukun’s voice stops him.

“-and you.”

“What was that?”

“Twenty cities and you, Zhengting. I don’t suppose you think your minions will settle for a new master that easy, right? You are to stay here as my aid until I’ve established order in the new territory.”

Chengcheng flashes a look between the two in an attempt to make sense of what is happening. “What the fuck are you talking about? He already gave you the cities, that’s more than enough, just let us g-”

“Fine. If that’s what it takes.”

“ _Zh_ _engting!"_  Justin’s face pales. “Xukun, you can’t do this. It's against the code.”

“Not if he’s willing.” Xukun steps forward, eyes flashing like a predator closing in on its prey, and leans in, teeth grazing the lobe of Zhengting’s ear. “And that you are, aren’t you, ‘Ting?”

“No.  _No_. We don’t trade lives here. Let us go, you bastard!” Chengcheng is furious and in a careless second, he makes the mistake of going for Xukun’s head.

The blond is knocked onto the ground before he could blink.

When Justin comes to his senses, Zhengting is already in front of an unconscious Chengcheng, a silver dagger millimeters away from Bufan's throat.

“You’ve still got it. This is why you’ve always been Yixing’s favorite,” Xukun’s composure is unscathed as he surveys his surroundings, eyes undetached, almost as if he hasn’t nearly been killed just a few seconds prior.

Zhengting grits his teeth, eyes fiery with rage and something else altogether. “You said you wouldn’t hurt them if we completed the deal. I never took you for a liar.”

“I also never said I would sit still if they tried to kill me, sweetheart,” Xukun strides forward and takes Zhengting’s chin between his fingers. “I’m getting a little bored of your playing house, 'Ting. Do we have a deal or not?”

“Zhengting _. Stop._ It’s not worth it.”

He doesn’t have to look back to see the crumbling look on Justin’s face. He doesn’t want to.

“Take them out and make sure they get back to base before nightfall.” Zhengting is patient but everything has a limit, money, time, chances, and he can no longer afford to put these kids’ lives on the line. “We have a deal.”


	2. meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our rules, our dreams, we're blind  
> Blowing shit up with homemade dynamite

Xukun kills for the first time when he’s sixteen. It’s a clean shot. An easy target.

Yixing has assigned him to a F-ranked recruit, Dong Yanlei, who has made the mistake of running away with his money. Xukun’s thumb traces the files that contain the man’s information, everything from his upbringing to his current whereabouts, and he can’t help but think that this Yanlei guy should be glad that Yixing was in a good mood when he decided to pass him to Xukun as target practice instead of bringing him back alive.

He lets Yanlei run for awhile, suffocating the man in a fabricated sense of safety, but it only takes two weeks until Xukun is tired of watching Yanlei run in circles, so he knocks twice on the rusty door of his hotel room and puts a bullet through his head.

Xukun doesn’t feel anything. He knows that there are much worse things than death.

He’s moved up three ranks after that for special training and it doesn’t take long for Xukun to be branded the unofficial Underboss among the envious eyes of his peers. _The Boss’ prodigy,_ he is called. He remembers wondering if he should have felt proud, but the thought is fleeting and it never passes again.

Zhengting arrives at their headquarters a year after Xukun is promoted, all wide eyes and pouty lips. Xukun almost thinks he is someone’s lost kid until he spots the numbers _0318_ tattooed on his wrist.

“What’s your name?” Zhengting is startled and jumps around to look at him.

“I- my name,” His eyes dart around nervously before they widen as if suddenly remembering something and he lifts up his wrist to show Xukun in lieu of an answer. “Here.”

“That’s not a name.”

“I-I don’t know my real name, but I heard they decided on ‘Zhu Zhengting’ for the paperwork,” Zhengting has looked like he was about to cry and Xukun wonders if the boy is scared of him.

“I’m Cai Xukun.”

••••••

Weeks pass and Zhengting doesn’t talk to anyone but him. All he does is follow Xukun around when they have their short lunch in the mess hall and then follow him back to his quarters to bid him goodnight. He’s not sure why Zhengting became a recruit, either, because the boy can barely talk to the other children.

Xukun is curious, until one day he finds out that Zhengting's timid, almost demure exterior is not his flaw, but his weapon.

It's during mission when he is assigned to train the recent batch of new recruits, which of course, includes Zhu Zhengting. They all file out in a single line, strapped to the bones with rifles and smoke bombs, and Xukun is surprised to find that they have given Zhengting nothing but a small backpack and civilian attire that makes him look nothing short of a middle schooler on a field trip.

Xukun wants to confirm again with upper division on whether they’re playing a prank on him but all that came back is that it is Yixing’s direct order and his only job is to mentor them.

They approach the run-down mill that Xukun guesses is the lair of some lower-ranked dealer group from North side that probably owes Yixing money. The rookies are split into teams according to their equipment and they would strike on Xukun’s cue. Zhengting, however is sent to the front entrance and Xukun finds himself not being able to take his eyes off the boy.

“Be careful,” Xukun says, to his own surprise, but he doesn’t take it back. “It’s practice but these people are still class B criminals. Remember our cues.”

“Of course,” A different kind of smile spreads lazily across Zhengting’s lips and Xukun wonders if he’s seeing things when he notices that Zhengting’s eyes seem to shift as he turns away.

Xukun watches in silence as Zhengting rearrange his own features just right so that he looks every inch the innocent angel he’s meant to be.

The door opens after a few knocks.

“Who are you, kid? This isn’t a playground. You can’t just walk in here.”

“I’m looking for Zi- Li Ronghao? There’s a package.” Zhengting fumbles with his backpack and blinks nervously at the brute man in front of him, making sure to trip over just enough syllables for the man to ease his caution.

The man eyes Zhengting down one more time before letting out a small grunt of agreement and turning his back to lead Zhengting inside. Xukun barely notices the flash of silver through his binoculars before he hears the sickening crack of the man’s head on the tiles, white foam streaming soundlessly out of his mouth.

Zhengting slips the poisoned dart back into his oversized sleeve and turns to give Xukun the biggest smile he could muster, along with a thumbs up.

Xukun slumps against the wall in shock, and, not even a minute later, hysterical laughter bubbles its way out of his lips almost uncontrollably. He decides then that there is still alot for him to learn about this trade and perhaps much more about the boy currently grinning at him from just a distance away.

The mission is finished with an overwhelming success rate, as expected, and they are paired up as field partners.

Zhengting, he learns, doesn’t fight with brute strength, at least not compared to the way Xukun does. Zhengting is meticulous and careful, picking apart and exploiting every single one of his resources. He’s cunning, but never predictable. Xukun watches Zhengting wear different faces night after night; he acts his part until curtain call: the ever so polished, spoiled young master at after-parties, a permanent smile plastered on his porcelain face as he converses effortlessly with high-ranked politicians about contracts and properties he’s only ever seen through debriefing papers.

On one of their assignments, an underground casino that deals everything from high-end prostitutes to heroin, Zhengting is a waiter, balancing itsy bitsy martinis on a silver tray with his slender fingers, hips swinging in a sleek black three-piece suit, all smiles and careful manners until he isn’t. Xukun watches the boy pull out a M-16 assault rifle and fires at every single security guard in the thigh, one shot each at the exact same place, not wasting a single bullet. By the time anyone even understood what was happening, Zhengting already has a their target thrashing on the ground, a butter knife etched between his neck.

They grow up alongside each other like this, mission after mission, and it becomes second nature for them to witness life fade out of their victims’ eyes after pulling the trigger unmercifully once, twice, thrice, a hundred times too many.

Zhengting, too, becomes second nature for Xukun.

They share kisses and smokes and secrets, whispered between their finite dawns and sunsets. Zhengting is not a saint; he’s old enough to know what he needs to know. Yet, somehow, Xukun finds that being with Zhengting gives him a taste of bygone innocence he could never afford to have. He doesn’t know if it’s from the way Zhengting still finds delight in the smallest things- like when the cafeteria finally stocks up his favorite cheesecake that Xukun thinks is much too sweet -or the way he looks at Xukun like he holds all the answers he doesn’t have.

It’s a sort of abstract affection Xukun has for the boy, with all the lines blurred around its edges. They curl up into each other when some days take more out of them than they intended, with Xukun lacing his hands through Zhengting’s and the elder letting Xukun’s lips roam his face until they meet his own. Xukun can send shivers down Zhengting’s spine with the simplest of touches. It's sensual, but it's not sex; their being together is a harmony kept sacred between the two of them, and like that, it would stay.

“Kun. Would you be sad if I left?” Zhengting asks him one night when they sneak out into an abandoned weapon storage room, the smoke filtering from Xukun’s cigarette and dust particles the only things surrounding them.

“Giving up already, sweetheart?” Xukun snorts and turns to stare at the boy whose head is lying snug in the curve of his shoulder. “Where would you go anyway?”

Zhengting shrugs, “Nowhere, I guess. I’m just saying.”

Xukun doesn’t answer, opting instead to take another long drag from his cigarette, not realizing that the same question would come back to haunt him months later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry mr. yanlei


	3. liability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mayday situation overload  
> I'm restless, obsessed with your future  
> And all my worries they don't bother you  
> Collected, you render me useless  
> But I carry on

When Justin fled from home, a couple sloppy bills pushed hurriedly into his palms and ushered on the first round-trip his mother could get him on, he foresaw himself laying low and getting by with casual robberies until his father deemed it okay for him to come back. His running away would guarantee a beating or two, but he supposed it was better than being killed. What he didn’t foresee, however, was being recruited into an organized crime syndicate and finding solace in a boy four years his senior who would treat him more like a human being than anyone in his sixteen years of life ever did.

Justin joined the Syndicate and looked for the first sign of danger, anything that would tell him to pack up his minimal belongings and flee. At least that was the plan until he’s approached by two higher-ranked recruits.

Zhengting was friendly, so much so that his blinding smile and gentle demeanor almost looked out of place in this kind of setting, but Zhengting never probed about Justin’s past unless he talked about it first and watched over him with a stern fondness that reminded him of his mother, and Justin thought that he doesn’t mind at all. Zhengting was sometimes accompanied by Cai Xukun, who he found was more quiet than he’s comfortable with. It’s the kind of quiet that made Justin hold his tongue and question his own words more often than he should. He liked Xukun, though. The boy was sharp and quick on his feet. He was skilled in his field and Justin found himself asking Xukun for help in honing his combat skills more often than once. Xukun was good company and treated him like he was the same age, never looking down on him.

Justin wondered if he and Xukun could have been friends if Zhengting had stayed.

••••••

The first time the three of them met Fan Chengcheng, he was dragged into their training room by the collar, face littered with blossoming bruises and a defiant look in his eyes.

“He was clinging on the back of our truck for maybe two-thirds of the way back before we even noticed,” Their supervisor, Yue Yue, said, and it caught his attention as he steals a glance at the battered boy on the ground, “We interrogated but he’s probably not a spy, just a dumb kid that thought he could steal our supplies. We obviously can’t let him leave, but Yixing wants to know if you guys down here can make use of him or have him be disposed of.”

The boys flinched at the mention of his possible fate and for a moment the silence in the room stretched for too long. Yueyue sighed and made a motion to reach for the boy’s thin arms when Zhengting strode forward and knelt in front of him.

“What’s your name?" 

It wasn’t until then that Justin realized the boy was shaking, and a closer look at his face told him that he was no more than seventeen years old, probably just an escapee from those juvie prison camps on the outskirts of their hideout. The government never gave a shit about strays like them, brushing them off into these confinement camps hoping to evade their responsibility. Escapee or not, though, Justin knew that the boy would have a hard time running from this place, if he could even survive the rest of the day.

“Fan Chengcheng.” He was even more surprised that the boy actually spoke up.

“We’ll take it from here. Go tell Yixing he’ll be with us and all activity will be reported to him by Xukun.”

“It will?” Xukun questioned but there was no hint of disagreement in his voice.

“Yes. Welcome to the Syndicate, Chengcheng.”

••••••

Fan Chengcheng, or Adam, as they’ve decided to name him for sake of convenience, was special. Weeks of training could not keep Chengcheng's skills hidden from them, skills that should not have belonged to an orphan surviving off of petty street crimes. Chengcheng’s forte was poison and manipulation of anything sharp within his reach, broken glass, the tip of a ballpoint pen, a hairpin, any miscellaneous item transformed itself into a lethal weapon in his hands. The three of them were quick to realize the odd nature of Chengcheng’s specialized skills and how well-versed he seemed to be in combat. He quickly became close to Zhengting under his guidance and Justin found himself feeling an odd sense of deja vu when he realized that the way Zhengting looked at Chengcheng mirrored the same look the elder had the first time he greeted Justin and took him into their small group. 

Justin decided that if Zhengting thought Chengcheng was worth protecting, he would do the same.

They tried to hide it from Yixing at first, reporting the new trainee’s rapid improvement as genius talent and hard work and soon Chengcheng was allowed to follow them on small missions, taking out lower-ranked rivals and poisoning political threats, under their seniors’ supervision. Justin would later come to realize that this was their first mistake.

One weekend when the four of them were supposed to have been off-duty, an order for a job came for Chengcheng, Justin, and some lower-ranked trainees. They were given nothing more than precise directions to arrange thirteen barrels loaded with about five hundred kilograms of explosives and place them in a drainage tunnel under the highway, then be on stand-by prepared to blow up the area once their target passed by. They were nervous, excited, scared, all at once, but more surprised that they were given a job that would often be trusted to the higher-ranked associates from branches of the Syndicate.  

“Don’t worry,” Zhengting smiled at them after the news broke out, but there was a slight edge to his voice. Justin had brushed it off as his imagination then. “It probably just means that you’re getting good and they’re trusting you. Soon, you’ll even be able to move ranks.”

Zhengting left the mess hall early that day and Xukun followed soon after.

That night, Justin found himself violently shaken awake by a panicked Zhengting and a duffel bag full of stolen weapons and cash shoved into his arms.

“Justin, listen to me carefully, there’s no time.” Zhengting whispered, voice harsh and ringing in the pitch black of his bunk, “You, me, and Chengcheng. We have to go. _Now_.”

“What? What about the mission tomorrow?” Justin was wide awake now, heart racing with the feeling of a bad premonition.

“There is no tomorrow,” Zhengting stopped, voice strained and Justin could hear him take in a deep breath before facing him. “Justin, it’s a suicide mission. That’s why I was suspicious because I realized they never picked the trainees by rank, it was by age. I went and took a look at YueYue's files, and it was right fucking there, Justin. _Suicide mission, seventeen and below,_ labeled it like an age stamp on a board game, those fucking bastards. They wanted to sacrifice the children because Yixing apparently believes older recruits are more loyal and are a waste of resources if they’re gone, so their next best thing was _children_. It’s a fucking gamble to them.”   

He had never heard Zhengting this angry in the year and a half he had been there, and it almost startled him more than the news.

“They didn’t _trust_ Chengcheng. They didn’t trust _us_. They never did. Yixing, he knew that Chengcheng’s not just a normal kid, that he can’t be propositioned like the rest, which makes him dangerous,” The elder ran a hand through his hair and slightly scratched at his wrist, a habit Justin recognized as one of nervousness. “And you were a liability because they knew you both were important to me. It’s a warning, but I won’t let them do it. That’s why we gotta leave tonight." 

“What about Xukun?” Chengcheng must have been standing at the door for their entire conversation, it seemed like Zhengting had told the boy everything already. 

The question stopped the elder in his tracks.

"What _about_ Xukun?"

"Will you leave him here? He's one of us."

“Xukun will be fine. They won’t hurt him, he’s the closest thing they have to an underboss and Yixing doesn’t trust anyone else, so they won’t risk him.” Zhengting’s fingers trembled as he spoke and Justin doesn’t want to think about the risk that they’re about to take.

It would be certain death, staying or leaving, their luck running on empty.

Chengcheng clicked his tongue. "That's not what I meant. You said Justin and I are liabilities for you, in other words, weaknesses,” He was eerily composed, but Justin could see a storm brewing in those halcyon eyes. “But you’re a liability for Xukun.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” Zhengting said, voice hardened with finality. “Your job is to listen to everything I tell you and get out of here as quietly as possible if you don’t want to get blown into dust by this time tomorrow."

••••••

They made it to the back entrance of the building before being caught by two guards, one of whom Zhengting easily knocked out with a slit of his throat. Chengcheng slipped behind the other and cracked his neck in one smooth movement. Justin was surprised at how easy it is to escape from such a highly guarded space, but their relief is almost immediately shattered when they spot a shadowy figure leaning against Zhengting’s minivan.

“Xukun.”

“‘Ting, don’t be stupid. You know better than this. Come back with me,” Justin thought that he misheard the plea in Xukun’s snarky tone. “They’ll catch you and kill you, sweetheart. All of you, and they won't waste a bullet, either.” 

Xukun took a step forward just as Zhengting fell one step behind.  

“Kun. I can’t,” Zhengting’s voice was trembling. “Just let us go, _please._ ”

“So what? You’re willing to die for a bunch of fucking children that you barely even know?” Xukun’s rising voice was filled with bitterness and Justin instinctively reached for the handgun strapped in his right leg. “Since when have you become this sentimental?”

“They’re family,” Zhengting said and straightened his back, almost as if to cover the two boys behind him. “I know you hate that word and you hate the idea of it and- _god,_ I know how stupid it is that someone like me could even dare to want a family, being in this business, but they’re all I have. Please, Xukun.” 

The silence that followed told them that that was not the answer Xukun expected, nor was it the one he wanted. Justin realized with a dawning horror that it didn't matter how lucky they had been or how easy it was to escape, if Xukun did not allow them to go, there was no way any of them would be able to step one foot off the property without losing their life.

He held his breath and gripped Chengcheng's hand, the both of them waiting for what seemed like the final verdict of their fate.

“You’ve gone soft, Zhengting, and I’ve outgrown you,” Xukun's mouth twisted in disgust.

Zhengting flinched at the harsh tone but his burning gaze told Xukun that he wouldn't back down, not now, not when they were so close already.

“I don’t care, I won’t stop you, but if I or anyone catches you again, there is no guarantee that any of you will make it out with all your limbs intact.”

“Thank you,” Zhengting nearly sobbed in relief and ushered the both of them into the car before jamming the key into the ignition and speeding off, all within the span of a minute. Justin couldn’t help but take one last look at the rearview mirror and it made him wonder if Chengcheng was wrong this time, that Zhengting wasn't just a liability, because the look on Xukun's face reminded him of his mother's haunting eyes on the train tracks the night she decided to let him go so he could live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xukun be honest with your feelings challenge: FAILED  
> also side note but i love mr fan chengcheng im sorry i keep writing u being beat up in this cursed fic


	4. middle ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One man can build a bomb  
> Another run a race  
> To save somebody's life  
> And have it blow up in his face  
> I'm not the only one who  
> Finds it hard to understand  
> I'm not afraid of God  
> I am afraid of Man

Three years come with more than just a few changes, Zhengting realizes. The room he’s currently in is almost empty save for the minimal pieces of furniture that are all a monotonous theme of gray and black; it’s impersonal and cold, which, he supposes, suits Xukun. The three-story building where Zhengting spent much of his late teens have been transformed into a oversized manor that looks more to him like decorated proof of Xukun’s newfound ego.  

He purses his lips in distaste.

“See something you don’t like, sweetheart?”

Zhengting feels the man’s presence in the room before he hears him. Force of habit.

“I see you’ve made renovations,” Zhengting comments without looking in Xukun’s direction, eyes flitting around the room once more. “It’s interesting. I didn’t know you liked gray so much.” 

“There are alot of things you don’t know, Ting,” Xukun leans against the doorframe. “You missed out on all the fun, redecoration was a handful.”

The air in the room becomes heavier and Zhengting realizes they’re no longer talking about just the wallpaper.

“I would ask how you did it, but I’m not sure I want to,” Zhengting says after a long minute and it makes Xukun’s head tilt up in mild surprise.

_A year after Zhengting had run away with a bag of rifles, one million dollars, and two of the Syndicate’s best trainees, news broke out that the body of Zhang Yixing was found floating in a landfill somewhere down in East Beijing. Zhengting would’ve refused to believe it, these baseless rumors often a common method mob bosses used to lay low, if what’s left of Byun Baekhyun wasn’t also found in a bag just a mile off._

_To the people in their world, Byun Baekhyun was the leader of the Syndicate’s brother group The Triad stationed in Hong Kong and Seoul, notorious for his work in illegal drug and human trafficking. Hidden behind carefully constructed lies and distractions, however, Byun Baekhyun was Yixing’s lover, a pretty little thing with eyes sharper than a knife’s edge._

_It didn’t take long for Xukun to be announced as the official boss after, the man now controlling over five hundred territories in mainland China, including some shared Triad cities in Hong Kong. Zhengting had wondered how Xukun managed to track down Yixing’s only weakness and finished the job so quickly at the same time. He was sure there are suspicions, but no one ever questioned the leader if they wanted to keep their tongue and he supposed Xukun’s people didn’t care how he got to the top anyway, dirty or not, given the nature of the work they’ve traded their own lives to do._

_In contrast to Zhengting’s own meticulous style of crafting and careful scheming, Xukun had always been more on the careless spontaneity side, always preferring quick and dirty work over Zhengting’s fussy details. That’s the way it’s always been._

“So you’ve heard,” Xukun smirks. “I didn’t think you’d do that much research.”

Zhengting has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Please, as if anyone with working ears living on this continent wouldn’t have heard of it. I never knew you were the flashy type, though. You’re just lucky it was a success or your body would been floating with the fishes. If I had been there, there was no way I would’ve let you-”

“But you weren’t.”

That effectively shuts Zhengting up. He searches Xukun’s eyes for any trace of betrayal, of anger, but all he receives is static apathy, as if they’re talking about someone else’s story altogether.

“You’re right,” Zhengting says curtly, because there’s really nothing else he wants to say. “I wasn’t.”

The last thing Zhengting expects is for Xukun to approach him, but he feels cold fingers curl around his jaw, forcing him to turn toward their owner. His eyes are immediately met with cool brown ones.

“‘Ting,” The voice that murmurs his name startles him. It’s almost gentle. “You’re so stubborn, sometimes.”

“Yeah, well...” Zhengting adverts his eyes and lets the rest of the sentence trail off, hoping Xukun doesn’t feel the irregular hitch of his breath.

“Your sense of priorities have always been skewed, but I just never expected you to put those runaway kids over your own life. It couldn’t have been the money, either, because we made triple the amount you stole on a single job alone. Family, you said, right? Did you want to be needed so bad that you had find it in a bunch of strays?”

Zhengting doesn’t react to Xukun’s acidic words. He knows it will always be like this, a cycle of the same old tired narrative. He doesn’t expect Xukun to forgive and forget, but he knows middle ground is a luxury they can never afford.

“Xukun,” Zhengting sighs. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I don’t regret my decision, either, and I never will.”

Xukun’s eyes flicker for a split second and Zhengting thinks he sees a flash of hurt, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. He lets his face go harshly, Zhengting’s neck nearly snapping at the motion.

“It’s been fun catching up, but I’m not keeping you here to gossip,” Xukun pulls out a set of keys from his pocket and turns to leave. “We have errands to run today.”

••••••

Xukun drives the both of them to a manor Zhengting recalls as property owned by the Wang branch of the Syndicate. The house is more of a mansion, with several stories supported by pillars that mirror that of a castle. Xukun has always been clever with his resources.

Zhengting follows Xukun into the meeting room on the top floor and he’s surprised to find that Xukun’s group consists of familiar faces. All the members are seated around a mahogany table and several eyes snap up at their entrance.

You Zhangjing and Xiao Gui are the first names that Zhengting can put to faces, having been in the same technology and timebomb units as the pair for a brief amount of time back in his training days; the two of them could hack into anything with a wire.

Chen Linong and Lin Yanjun are the socialites, and Zhengting vaguely recalls a blurry memory of Linong being his partner on a mission to take out one of Yixing’s political threats in Qingdao, the boy’s smile is bright as he put eight bullets in the body of their target while Zhengting disposes of the bodyguards. Lin Yanjun operates on a different plane, making use of his chiseled features and flirting his way to the right clues, the right names, the right information; he’s in charge of cleaning up the dirty residue they leave behind. The glint in Yanjun’s eye mirrors that of a animal, wild and bloodthirsty.

All eyes are on Zhengting when Xukun introduces him as their newest consigliere, but the looks on their faces tells Zhengting they understand the title means nothing more than Xukun’s trophy prisoner.

“Boss,” Bufan’s voice is low in Xukun’s ear, but Zhengting catches it. “He’s here.”  
  
A tall man come into the room, and the rest stand to extend their welcomes.

“This is Wang Ziyi, my right hand man,” Xukun says. “Zhu Zhengting, I’m sure we don’t need introductions.”  
  
They settle in the chairs.

The errands that Xukun mentioned turn out to be a secret attack on the Triad. It’s been a whole year but the anger simmering after their leader’s death is very much alive. A betrayal, they deem it. Zhengting almost finds it amusing how wrong they are. He wonders what they would do once they find out it wasn’t Yixing who murdered his lover, but the man currently sitting across from him.

Triad members believe that Yixing killed Baekhyun as an attempt to seize control over their territory and counterfeit goods, but ended up making a lethal mistake after involving himself in the crossfire and dying from a critical wound. Zhengting almost laughs out loud at the notion because after years of being under Zhang Yixing’s rule, he knows that the only mistake the man has ever made was trusting Cai Xukun.

“So, Boss, which sector are we getting rid of first? Yuen Long?” Zhangjing’s voice permeates the room. “Gui and I call dibs on fucking with their security system, we’ve been dying to get our hands on it.”

“No, we can’t be too reckless this time. There’s too much on the line,” Xukun replies. “I was thinking we could get a grip on their interior first, gather some information, maybe send in an insider, and figure out their assets. Then, we act accordingly.”

“Or, we could just go in and do what we do best: blow shit up and rob their joint,” Xiao Gui says with a sly grin and Zhengting begins to question the order within this group.

“Your toys will come into use later, Xiao Gui, I promise,” Xukun brushes him off. “For now, we need a solid plan, one without any cracks. We’ve got a head start from what Linong told me after the infiltration of their Beijing base last week, this will be a large-scale operation. They’re not just planning to take us down, but to also wipe out every other gang in the country and monopolize control of public housing estates, the drug and prostitution business, and the underground weapon links.”

Linong nods in acknowledgement, “The attack on that railroad last year was just a test. They got away with stealing a couple shipments, but it just goes to show that they have the resources and power to do it, and this time, if we’re not careful, it won’t be just be just a few rifles and bombs we’re losing. They’ve most likely been working on this for years. We’ll run out of time trying to play catch-up.”

Zhengting flinches _._ The Triad’s attack had been directed at one of his own shipments from Seoul He remembers his informant coming back with the news that someone had placed explosives under the bridge where they knew his trucks would pass. He ended up losing about one million’s worth of firearms. More importantly, though, Justin had been put in charge of that trip and only managed to escape by a hair’s breadth because his crate had been the last due to complications with the train’s engine, causing him to be stuck behind and missing the explosion by a minute’s time. Zhengting doesn't think they’ll be that lucky next time.

His mind flashes to Justin and Chengcheng waiting back at home and thinks about the worst case scenario, how the outcome of this would affect the both of them. They know how to defend themselves, Chengcheng being quick with his poison and Justin with his flawless aim, and there are escape routes and safe caches built in to their manor, but they’ve never had a frontal attack from another group before and Zhengting knows that he won’t be quick enough this time.

Zhengting shifts his focus to the scattered papers that present maps of the Triad’s properties, all fifty of them, and detailed profiles of each member.  

Xukun catches on immediately. Years of being with Zhengting, both on the field and in private, has sensitized Xukun enough to recognize when the gears are beginning to turn in Zhengting’s head and right now, the fixated look on the man’s face tells him that Zhengting is in his element.

“Do you have a plan,‘Ting?”

“It’s not foolproof, but it might be our best bet right now,” Zhengting finally stops analyzing the images on the table long enough to look up at Xukun. “You need a bait.”

A short silence ensues as they take in Zhengting’s suggestion.

“A bait?” Zhangjing speaks up first, confusion and hesitance evident in his voice. “Why do we need a bait? Wouldn’t a direct attack be quicker? Nongnong already said we don’t have that much time, so why play mind games with them?”

“Zhengting is right, we do need a bait,” Everyone in the room turns to Ziyi in surprise, but he keeps his gaze fixed on Zhengting. “There’s a reason why the Triad lasted for so long where so many others failed. They may not be the best of the best, but they have connections and resources and skills. Don’t be stupid enough to think that for each pawn we have, they don’t have a better one. If I had to guess, they’d most likely already be expecting whatever schemes we’re planning, ready to counter with one of their own.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Zhengting asks. 

The gleam in Ziyi’s eyes is resolute. “You, Zhengting, will be our bait.”

••••••

From the balcony of the master bedroom, the city's lights blend together into one blurry mosaic. Dark skies lit up by the hues of neon signs complete the busy setting of a night in Beijing, where neither the city nor its people catch a wink of sleep, always running from something.

Zhengting is reminded once again that this is not home, where he can hear Justin and Chengcheng’s rambunctious voices arguing over combat tactics or sneaking into the garage to steal the keys to his Jaguar when they think he’s asleep. Zhengting doesn’t want to think, not about Yixing, Baekhyun, and the lost opportunities that can’t be given to the dead, not about the Triad and their eventual attempts at capturing power. In this business, he knows more than anyone that respect and power can’t be taken, only earned, and the Triad will go down with the flames their create. It’s just a matter of whether or not the little family he’s worked so hard to protect will go down with them.

“Pretty, right?”

The glass door to the balcony creaks open and he feels Xukun’s presence beside him as the man leans forward on his elbows, contemplating the view.

“Yes,” Zhengting offers him a small chuckle, but they both know it holds no real humor. “Too noisy for my taste, though.”

“Right, you’ve never liked this place, even back then,” A wisp of smoke leaves Xukun’s lips and Zhengting watches it travel upward and disappear into thin air.

“Xukun, what are you doing?" Zhengting questions, voice almost exasperated. "I figured you didn't need my help to gather control over the cities, but I didn't expect  _this_. You've always been reckless, but attacking Triad territory? You know it's suicidal."

"I'm not you, 'Ting. Don't expect me to sit around and have tea parties with them to beg for our lives. If they want a fight, that's what I'm gonna give them." Xukun's eyes are hardened with a new kind of ferocity. 

Zhengting doesn't react to the harsh words, opting instead to steal the cigarette from Xukun’s hand and puts it against his own lips, taking in the nicotine with a sharp inhale, "Why are you here then? Are you afraid I’d run? Because after everything today, escaping is the least of my priorities right now.”

“I know you’re doing this for them, to protect them.”

Zhengting peers at him under thin lashes, the soft curves of his face illuminated by the dim light.

“I’m not gonna stop you, we both know how well that turned out, you’ll just find a way to do it on your own like you always do. So I’d rather you be under my watch, with my own men and resources,” Xukun’s eyes are dark and Zhengting thinks that the man has aged much more in the three years he’d been gone. “There are other options, though, it doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

“We can’t afford other options,” Zhengting says. “With the speed they’re working at, we won’t be able to see them coming if we don’t have leverage. One step ahead, remember?”

The mention of their old motto catches Xukun off-guard and a playful smile slowly stretches over his face, “Of course, one step ahead.”

“It'll turn out fine,” Zhengting says. “Besides, if I die, Chengcheng will have to be Boss, and he’ll want to start selling poison and bombs in the supermarket or something.”

Xukun laughs, and Zhengting thinks it’s the most unguarded he’s seen him in the week they’ve been together. Middle ground is a luxury they can never afford, but Zhengting finds himself thinking that, maybe, it’s the one thing they both need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUN, zhengting going✈get himself killed perhaps?  
> would you guys want to read about how chengstin are doing back at home in the next chapter? or more zhengkun being angsty and gay?


	5. business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We'll end up painted on the road  
> Red and chrome  
> All the broken glass sparkling  
> I guess we're partying

For how smart he is, Zhengting is the stupidest person Justin knows. This was the only thing running through his head three weeks ago after their bodyguard had dropped them off and left Justin to begrudgingly carry an unconscious Chengcheng on his back all the way up to his bedroom.

The same thought still occupies his mind three weeks later as Justin double checks the week’s shipment and sends out details of the upcoming orders to their associates, all of which are jobs that should have been done by a certain leader.

It’s chaos, to put the matter lightly.

He and Chengcheng have been stuck in a whirlwind of trying to hide Zhengting’s sudden disappearance from their rival mobs, managing security and keeping business going smoothly all at the same time. Justin’s beginning to think that he might have taken Zhengting’s responsibilities for granted once he has gone through his fiftieth shipment check of the day and can no longer feel his legs. In the free time that he manages to have by sneaking away for a little while, Justin finds the space of the manor all too quiet, lacking the nagging voice of a certain boss who somehow always seemed to know what trouble he and Chengcheng are brewing up, no matter where they are.

Zhengting is stupid. All Justin and Chengcheng have ever given him, as quoted many times by the man himself, is a headache. On any given day, Justin would be the first to voice his disagreement in the way the would annoy Zhengting the most: loudly. Today, however, all he can think about is how stupid Zhengting is. He can’t fathom why Zhengting, why _anyone,_ would be willing to give up so much for the two of them, their family certainly hadn’t.

He and Chengcheng were a couple strays that would have been considered the lowest scum on society’s ladder if it weren’t for Zhengting’s stupidity when he decided to take them under his wings. Justin thinks Zhengting is the worst kind of stupid, the self-sacrificing kind. He also doesn’t think that he could ever give Zhengting back all that the man has given him in the three years they’ve been together.

Zhengting, never been one without a plan, has trained him for this whole taking-over-the-business thing, of course. He’d entrusted Justin to top-secret information and links to connections that the leader’s built up over the years, not leaving out a single detail. _Just in case for when something happens,_ the leader had said.

Justin tries his hardest to bury the thought of what _something_ might mean.

A fierce scratching sound distracts Justin momentarily from his thoughts and he snaps his head up to the source of the noise.

“Chengcheng, can you cut it out? Stop trying to turn Zhengting’s pens into one of your blades, he’ll kill you when he gets back.”

“Yeah, _if_ he gets back,” The brooding boy mumbles with a scornful expression and continues to press the shiny silver pen deeper against the edge of the table.

Justin opens his mouth to argue but finds the reply stuck in his throat. Chengcheng isn’t wrong. It’s been weeks since the two of them have last heard anything from the leader himself, and even that had been from their little incident with Cai Xukun, where, as Chengcheng liked to put it, Zhengting sold himself to the devil. Justin prefers a less dramatic version, a trade-off maybe, but the fact is that their leader isn’t home, where he should be, and they have no clue as to whether the man was alive or not.

“Xukun won’t hurt him.”

Chengcheng pauses his furious scratching to glare up at him and Justin thinks his expression mirrors that of a child in the middle of a fit even though the boy is two years older than him, “I know that, do you think I’m stupid?”

“Then why are you so worried?" 

“I’m not wo-” Chengcheng stops and the scowl slowly returns to his face. He can’t lie to himself or Justin at this point, what with the way he’s been on edge for the past few weeks; he chooses to ignore that slip-up, though. “Xukun is the least of our problems. Zhengting just has a knack for diving headfirst into crazy suicidal shit, and I don’t know about you, but I’d like to see him not in a body bag the next time we meet, whenever that is.”

 Justin visibly cringes at the crude image, but he couldn’t help but agree.

“I just hate that he always thinks the only way to keep us safe is to put himself in danger.”

Justin takes a small step forward and puts a firm hand on the boy’s shoulders, squeezing lightly. An offering of comfort. Chengcheng takes it and his expression softens.

“Zhengting’s tougher than you think. I trust him, he won’t do anything that will get himself killed, at least.”

••••••

“So, this plan is for sure going to get me killed.”

Yanjun barks out a loud laugh at Zhengting’s toneless statement and studies the man for a moment before turning to Xukun, “He’s cute. Where’d you pick him up, boss?” 

Xukun ignores Yanjun in favor of sketching a makeshift map on the chalkboard instead, the sound grating against their ears.

“Focus,” Zhangjing snaps at the smirking man, who only replies with a curt shrug. “So how are we going to decide who’s tailing Zhengting?”

“You and Xiao Gui are needed on their wires, so you’re out,” Ziyi says. “Xukun and I are obviously out of the question since they’d recognize our faces within a mile radius, we'll have the car ready. We’re short on gunmen since those cops got on our ass last time in Vegas and took Ruibin and Chaoze. This leaves Yanjun and Nong on sniper duty-”

“Aw come on, my face is too pretty to be shooting up the place,” Yanjun fakes a pout that effectively earns a harsh slap from Zhangjing. “Can I at least leave the mask off?”

Everyone ignores Yanjun.

“That leaves Zhengting as a spy,” Xukun finishes the rest of Ziyi’s sentence, sucking in a sharp breath. “Alone.”

“So when do we start?” Xiao Gui said without looking up, fingers furiously pushing on buttons of what looks like an old gameboy. If he didn’t know better, the petite boy’s appearance alone would have made given Zhengting the impression that he was just high school punk, maybe a college freshmen, whose main occupation is his soundcloud mixtape.

“Tonight,” Ziyi replies. “We’re gonna hit their hotel across the river in Xuanwu. That’s where they’re heroin shipment is being sent out first thing tomorrow morning from what we last heard.”

Zhengting closes his eyes and thinks about all the possible repercussions of trying to sabotage a shipment belonging to one of the most dangerous mobs in the country. He narrows them down to two options: (1.) He could die, which leaves the rest of his own group under Chengcheng and Justin’s leadership. He gives it about four days, a week top, before a revolt is in action. (2.) He could die, which would lead to the Triad seeking out Chengcheng and Justin, and it wouldn’t be for tea.

Zhengting contemplates his choices, nulling over them carefully before coming to a final decision, “Okay, so what do I have to do?”

“This is the layout of their base in Beijing, where you’ll be for most of this operation. We have an insider that can get you in directly in with their members,” Ziyi doesn’t waste any time explaining, fingers tracing up and down the map in quick motions. “Zhengting, your job is to get us all the info you can on their next stops and shipment. We’ll send you in with one of Zhangjing’s bugs. Throw them off-track if you can and don’t let them find out you’re one of us.”

Zhangjing gives the both them a skeptical look, “And if they do? It would blow our cover and ruin everything.”

It seems like the man had voiced Xukun’s worries and it struck a nerve. The leader visibly tenses, teeth gnawing over chapped lips. Zhengting knows a million scenarios are running through Xukun’s mind, most of them gruesome images of his dead body.

Zhengting, against his better judgement, places a warm hand on top of Xukun’s balled fist, making sure the man looks at him, _really_ looks at him, hoping that it would convey his reassurance and everything else he couldn’t say out loud.

“Then it’s my job to make sure they don’t, right?”

••••••

“Okay, you go in, plant the tapes, and be in and out in ten minutes and back across the river. Are we clear?” There’s an authoritative edge in Yanjun’s voice and Zhengting finds it surprising and much different from the snide remarks and sarcasm that came from the man before.

“No bullshit. I mean it,” Yanjun says, looking at every member and no one seems to show any signs of the usual retorts. “Nong and I will be on the rooftops from the casino across, if anything happens, just break out the fire exit. We’ll be able to see you from here.”

Zhengting is clad in a cream-colored suit and a matching tie, a handgun strapped to the bottom of his ankle, the weapon carefully concealed under the fabric of his pants. The man’s slick back hair and tactful smile completes the facade of a dashing young socialite. Xukun tries to remind himself that his focus should be on the mission and not how well the shirt’s material hugs the curves of Zhengting’s hip.

“Okay, we’re ready. Let’s scam these assholes,” Zhengting breaks the tension with a devious smile and gathers himself into his role of the perfect elite.

Zhengting enters the building and the carpet of the dining area is satin, which is the first thing he notices. He turns up his nose in distaste. These bastards have the type of money that can run an entire country but they choose to spend it on useless shit like this. _And_ the color is ugly.

A waiter approaches him and offers a cocktail. The way the man looks at him, like he’s surveying Zhengting's every motion, tells him that the only thing this waiter has been waiting on all night is Zhengting. They exchange a look and when Zhengting reaches for the glass, a piece of paper is quickly slipped into his palm.

_Bingo._

‘1303’ it reads. Zhengting’s mind flashes back to one of the briefings where Xukun had mentioned that the Triad’s business will be dealt on the thirteenth floor, where their second-in-command Kim Jongdae, who’d been unanimously made the unofficial boss, had bought out the entire floor and much of the hotel’s stocks. They’ve created their own private, impenetrable space where they can do the dirty work with no disruptions.

Until today, at least. Zhengting’s lips curl up at the thought.

Zhengting enters the elevator and is followed by a looming presence he recognizes as the ‘waiter’ from earlier. They say nothing until the button numbered ‘13’ brightens with a ding, the door opening up to reveal a long-winded hallway.

Both of their footsteps fall into rhythm and it isn’t until he reaches the third door on the left that he feels the hard metal pressing against his back. It’s a bit unprofessional for his taste, pulling out a threat this early in the game but he supposes to each their own.

The door is opened after two knocks and Zhengting is unceremoniously shoved inside. 

“Welcome.”

Kim Jongdae’s grin mirrors that of a Cheshire cat and Zhengting immediately understands that this isn’t someone he wants to make angry. Zhengting knows many of his kind, the ones that don’t follow any set of logic and will smile in your face and pat your cheek, then blow your brains out in the next second. His every move would have to be more than careful, stepping one step in the wrong direction would ensure not just his death, but everyone involved.

“Mr. Kim,” Zhengting says. “I’m sure you’ve gotten my message.”

“Zhu Zhengting, I don’t recall if this is the first time we’ve met.” Jongdae takes a sip of his wine, eyes still set on Zhengting. “You’re here about a deal, hm? To sell us your weapons?” 

“So the message has gotten through,” Zhengting offers a coy smile and slowly approaches the man. “My business would be more than happy to offer our services to yours, but I don’t suppose all your negotiations come with your potential partners being held at gunpoint?”

Jongdae is silent, just a beat too long, and Zhengting begins to break a sweat. Has he said the wrong thing?

A moment later, one that feels like an eternity, Jongdae waves a hand and the gun is lowered. The waiter from before leaves the room with a curt bow. Zhengting tries not to look too relieved.

“I heard you were in need of some new toys, and we've just gotten some new shipments from the backstreets of Tokyo last week, Colts, Springfield, any rifle you could think of, ” Zhengting explains. “What do you think?”

“And what’s in it for you?” Jongdae replies.

Zhengting laughs like it’s obvious. “Of course, it’s the same reason why you’ve built up this grand network, right? My empire is a car, it needs maintenance and I can’t do that if I don’t have the fuel. Money, to put it in simpler terms. And I’m sure you're not lacking.”

Zhengting hopes with all his heart that the facade is convincing enough that the man will at least consider the option.

“You’re right, Zhu Zhengting, I do have plenty of that fuel you need,” Jongdae says. “But you’re wrong about one thing.”

Zhengting quirks his eyebrows, edging the man to go on.

“Idid not build up this business, not by myself at least,” Jongdae stumps out the butt of his cigarette. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the name Byun, no?”

Zhengting pales. He half considers making a run for it when Jongdae continues.

“He was the one who ran this entire damn thing. And he did it beautifully, too, without a crack,” Jongdae’s smile is almost too plastic, too wide. “Does it make sense to you that someone like that could be so painfully ripped of his life in just one night?”

Zhengting hears the venom in Jongdae’s voice and it runs under his skin, raising goosebumps. He hopes to every single god out there that Xukun never meets this man face to face if this was the kind of anger they were referring to.

“No, no it doesn’t, Jongdae. Byun Baekhyun was victim of a rat, one that took the form of his own lover, the most despicable kind,” It's almost weird to be talking about his deceased boss like this, but Zhengting is too preoccupied with finishing what he came here to do to care. “-which is why I think you need all the resources you can get. And I can get that for you. However much you want. No more no less.”

Jongdae chuckles, “I like you, Zhengting. Have you ever considered picking a side?”

_I already have._

Zhengting only smiles at him, though, all pearly teeth and crescent eyes, “I am my own side, Jongdae. I’m happy with just my toys. You boys can battle it out and I’ll be right there on both ends with extra bullets.”

Jongdae lets out a real laugh at that and turns to whisper something to the burly man next to him, who then fishes out a pen and checking book from his suit.

Zhengting wanders around the room and runs his fingers over the gold-encrusted lamps and furniture and decor. He unclips his ‘earring’, the adjustable bug having been wired by Zhangjing to be able to capture a wide range of audio, and places it inside the lightbulb under the guise of a curious, fidgety hand.

“This time, today, next week, I want revolvers, pistols, rifles, and submachines all wrapped up in pretty little boxes with a bow for me,” Jongdae finishes his signature and hands the pen back to his bodyguard. “Explosives, too, the best you’ve got. Surprise me, Zhengting.”

The check issued for two million dollars is slid across the table to his side. Zhengting doesn’t want to think about why the mob boss has decided on such a large price for the ammunition or what the implications could mean for his group, both the one waiting outside and his kids back home.

Instead, he thinks about the tapping device that will further the success of their mission and puts on his best and brightest smile, offering a hand to seal the deal. 

“Thank you for your business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this is abit of a boring filler chapter but it's needed for what's going to come next so please be patient <3


	6. rats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're second hand smoke, second hand smoke  
> I breathe you in, but, honey, I don't know what you're doing to me  
> Mon chéri, but the truth catches up with us eventually

The tapping bug works wonders. Zhangjing and Xiao Gui are all smug smiles and pompous laughter as the first sound comes through with smooth ease and Zhengting is beginning to understand why Xukun kept these men by his side despite their eccentricity and lack of structure.

It takes them awhile, a few weeks' time, but they successfully render The Triad’s networks in complete confusion by always knowing each of their steps before they even take them. One step ahead.

Zhengting continues to travel back and forth to Triad territory in between each mission as not to raise suspicion, supplying Jongdae with the latest weapons when and where he needs it, only for the shipments to be blown up or stolen, sometimes both. They rob their property and casinos and slash the tires of their trucks, which, if Zhengting thinks is too childish and petty, he doesn’t say it to their face.

Their team targets mostly prostitution rings and heroin shipments. It’s supposed to be a warning, a yellow light, them pushing back Triad control in Beijing and hopefully extinguishing the group altogether.

“That stuff is their poison,” Xukun has said when Zhengting questioned why it's the drugs he’s so interested in. “We shut it down, take it over, and knock their queen. It’s only over then.”

The same tactics become tired, though, and anyone can learn from experience, timebombs and drug raids only working as long as their shields of anonymity do. It’s when Zhengting meets Kim Minseok that his high wire starts to break.

He’s a short man with a decent build and eyes mirroring those of a calico cat. Minseok gives Zhengting a one-over when Jongdae introduces him and his ghost of a smile runs icy down Zhengting’s spine. It gives him impression that Minseok knows something he doesn’t. Half the battle is fought on ice, though, and Zhengting is not unfamiliar with the cold.

That meeting in particular ends with Minseok snatching a tight grip on Zhenting’s hands, lips quirking up into a smile that’s anything but cheerful, “See you around, Zhu Zhengting.”

The weapon supplies from Zhengting continue. So do the attacks. Linong estimates that they may have cost the Triad more than double their investments. Zhengting knows that it’s not _if_ they will figure it out about the double-sided arrangements, it’s _when_. In these games, there is always a price, and Zhengting knows that they’ve cheated too much of their luck for their next move to be a checkmate.

••••••

Xukun is exhausted, and Zhengting can see it from the way his shoulders sag just a little too low as he’s hunched over the paperwork entailing the clues and information they’ve gathered about The Triad’s next deal.

“Xukun,” Zhengting approaches the man with quiet steps and places a hot cup of tea and two painkillers on his desk. “You need to sleep. No one’s out here benefiting from you drowning yourself in work.”

Xukun observes him for a moment and, much to Zhengting’s relief, finally puts his lips to the steaming cup and swallows the pills with a quick gulp.

“And what about you? Why are you still up?”

Zhengting sits himself down onto Xukun’s sofa and hums noncommittally.

“I don’t know. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Are you thinking about them?” Xukun says, and Zhengting knows it’s Chengcheng and Justin he’s referring to.

“No. They’re fine. They’re my kids,” He offers a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I taught them well enough to be able to survive a few weeks without me.”

“Then what are you thinking about?” Xukun asks almost gingerly, as if saying it any louder would make Zhengting bolt and run.

“I was thinking about you.”

“Hm,” Xukun places his folder down on the table and sits down next to Zhengting, eyes never straying from him for a second. “What about me?”

“You never changed, you know,” Zhengting says almost absentmindedly, but they both know he's anything but. His pupils are shaking when he reaches a hesitant hand up to Xukun’s sunken cheeks, slender fingers tracing over the hard lines between Xukun’s eyes,“You’ve always fit me best, on the field or otherwise, even though you’re everything I’m not. It could have gone so different.”

The mob boss leans into the touch naturally, as if it’s where he belongs, hands gripping Zhengting’s own with a desperate urgency.

“It’s not too late, ‘Ting, come back to me.”

Zhengting would have missed the whispered plea it if it weren’t for their proximity, Xukun’s words low and guttural. They don’t speak after that, but the silence carries the weight of the words neither would say.

Xukun moves closer and Zhengting doesn’t stop him, the only thing he could grasp on to keep his mind from spinning off its axis is the chaotic rhythm of his own heart and the way Xukun’s eyes bore into his own like they’re opening him up, searching for everything he has coiled up and tucked away.

They’re millimeters apart and Xukun’s lips are so so close and Zhengting could hear, could _feel_ the hitch of his breath and the goosebumps slowly dragging up the younger’s skin. Xukun’s eyes hold the universe and it makes Zhengting entertains the reckless thought that if they had run away back then, if Justin never follows that truck back to their compound, if Chengcheng hadn’t been caught with that stolen gun, if Xukun had become underboss rightfully, if he had _stayed,_ but these _ifs_ are only evidence of his present.

No matter the regrets, second thoughts, missed chances, or anything else in between, Zhengting still has a family to protect.

Xukun’s lips linger near his own mouth, and it only heightens his longing and all Zhengting wants to do is wrap his arms around the man’s neck and never let go. He closes his eyes and counts backward to one.

“Xukun, let me go this one last time,” Zhengting hooks a light finger around Xukun’s wrist, and pleads, voice subdued, nearly begging. “I won’t jeopardize anything. The bug can only hear so much and it’s not the same as having an extra pair of ears inside.”

With that, the spell snaps like a string pulled too tight, Xukun pulling away and brushing off his hand, coldly turning his back to him, all within a second.

“No,” Xukun is curt. To the point. The way he is with everything regarding business. “It’s too risky. Yesterday was your last meeting with Jongdae, don’t waste your breath. We blow up their next train coming in from Qingdao and rat them out to cops. Your job is done.”

“Please, Xukun-”

“There's an early meeting tomorrow. Go get some rest. Goodnight.”

Zhengting knows that when Xukun gets like this, there won't be anything or anyone that can convince him, so he shuts the door silently and makes his way to the next best choice. 

••••••

“Zhangjing, you have to trust me,” Zhengting says, trailing behind the shorter man who’s currently ignoring him in favor of what looks like a microchip in his hand. “It’s better for everyone if I go. Jongdae trusts me, and it’ll be easier to pin down their new hideout, which we haven’t got a clue of where it is yet. One more of these raids and they’ll run to their fortress immediately. How will we chase them then?” 

A beat of silence. And then a voice from behind him rings through the basement, “It’s our call, and you leave as soon as we tell you to.”

They both turn around to see Yanjun leaning against the chalkboard, eyes dark. Zhengting curses silently. He’d thought he had been discreet when he snuck down here.

“I trust Yanjun,” Zhangjing only replies then, expression more hard and serious than Zhengting had ever seen it. “It’ll be our call. They suspect one thing and you’re out of there.”

He eyes the pair and for a minute it’s a tug-of-war between them, with Zhengting on the losing end. Finally, Zhengting sighs and it breaks the silence.

“Yes. Okay. Your call, your call,” Zhengting pats Zhangjing’s arm. “Thank you for trusting me. I won’t let you down.”

“Let’s just hope Xukun will be quick when he kills us,” Yanjun retorts but he’s already tossing Zhengting the keys to his Cadillac and heading out the door.

All of this explains why Zhengting is speeding down the highway at three past midnight with Yanjun and Zhangjing strapped in the backseat, armed to the bones with equipment and eyes darting nervously to the rearview mirrors for any indication that they were being tailed.

They don’t speak until they were away from the compound and swerving onto an abandoned street a few blocks away from the targeted building, one of the Triad’s hotels.

  
“I will be meeting Jongdae under the excuse that this is our last transaction and try to pry info about their next hideout.”

Zhangjing sets his lips into a hard line and reaches into his bag for a tie, quickly fastening the fabric around Zhengting’s neck.

Zhengting offers a half-smile as Zhangjing is pulling on the knot and teases, “What’s the occasion? Potentially getting myself killed by a mob group in style?”

Both Yanjun and Zhangjing send him matching glares and the latter tightens the tie grudgingly around his neck, “No, because you will be leaving on _our call,_ remember? I’ve put another bug similar to your earring in this thing and we’ll be taping your entire conversation. If Yanjun or I even suspect even the slightest that they’re onto us, we’ll tell you through the comm and you are to leave immediately, understand?”

Zhengting makes a two-finger salute at the shorter man and grins, “You’d make a good boss, Xiao You.”

Zhangjing rolls his eyes and mumbles what sounds like “idiot” under his breath. Contrary to the prolonged threats and explanations of their hacker, “I’ll kill you if you die” is the only thing Yanjun says before Zhengting leaves the car and it makes him crack a smile.  

He has calculated the steps, every possibility down to it’s exact timing, and he knows that it won’t be long until either Jongdae or Minseok start suspecting someone from their inner circles as each location they’ve attained from the bug gets more and more specific.

For someone always so meticulous in his craft, though, miscalculation is Zhengting’s biggest downfall. In a business like this, it’s easy to forget that for every pawn he has, every single one of his opponent will hold his own counterpart. 

••••••

Zhengting can’t read Minseok’s eyes. It’s the only thing that monopolizes his thoughts ever since he’s entered the run-down motel room fifteen minutes ago, the scent of burnt cigars filling up his nose. 

“Zhengting, Jongdae sent me here on a little errand today. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we’re due for a relocation soon. Abit of trouble with some indoor pests.”

Zhengting tries to stop his nerves from going haywire, pale hands gripping on the fabric of his pants under the table.  

“I… was not aware of this,” Zhengting swallows. “But I don’t see a problem, since you work together. I’d even go as far as to say you’re friends. A transaction by you is as good as one by Jongdae himself to me.”

Minseok cackles, head thrown back, laughter raucous and heavy and  _wrong._ Zhengting stiffens.

“Zhengting, do you know what I hate more than losing?” Minseok inhales the smoke into his lungs and breathes them out slowly, as if savoring it. “It’s the word _friends._ Zhang Yixing had been a friend, did you know? He had always had the brightest smiles, bless that man.”

The silence in the room is deafening but Zhengting is so close, _so_ close to dragging the hideout location out of Minseok’s mouth and it makes him stay glued into his spot.

“The transaction, Minseok, unrivaled guns and weaponry. It would bring you so much closer to Baekhyun’s revenge than you’d ever imagine. I'm here to schedule our next and final meeting.”

“Revenge? Oh, Zhengting,” Minseok flashes his gaze down to his feet and mocks a frowning face. “I thought you and I were on the same page.”

The turmoil grows inside Zhengting and it only works to propel his confusion and unease.

“I’m not sure I’m catching on.”

“Zhengting, tell me, do you know what Zhang Yixing’s biggest mistake was?” 

He searches for the right answer, a truth, a lie, anything, and comes up blank.

“He betrayed you, killed Baekhyun and ratted you out.”

“Wrong, his biggest flaw was not Baekhyun’s murder. His blame lies in the fact that he’s been feeding rats, letting them run wild inside his own home, hand-feeding them himself,” Minseok’s sneer is vile, every word carrying its own poisonous bite. “Until eventually they grew big enough to bite him, and it was game over. Except that the ending wasn’t a happy one for us, and we’re just here to take back what was owed. What was his name, the orphaned nineteen-year-old prodigy, _Cai Xukun_?”

(" _Zhengting. Zhengting, get out of there, he knows, he knows-”)_

A gun is cocked and pointed at his temple just as Zhengting responds to his reflexes fast enough to barely reach for his own handgun. They’re head to head now, neither gaining a vantage point over the other, matching pistols pointed at mirroring targets. If either of them pulled the trigger, no one would make it out alive. 

“Kim Minseok, I should have given you much more credit than you’re worth.”

(“- _Zhu Zhengting. I swear to God if you don’t listen to me right now. Find the fastest way to get out of that building before he blows your brains out. Zhengting can yo-”)_

He registers Zhangjing’s voice mixed with static in his comm set but the adrenaline making his ears pound drowns most of it out.

“Now, Zhu Zhengting, my patience is like money, it runs out. I’ll give you a way, though. Hand yourself over to us and tell us the name of every rat involved in this. And quickly.” 

Zhengting’s grip on his trigger is shaky but he musters a crooked smile, steadying his aim. He thinks about Yanjun and Zhangjing inside their vehicle outside. About Xukun and Ziyi and Linong and Xiao Gui, bullets littering unforgivingly throughout their bodies.

“You’re out of luck with that one. Sorry to let you down but it’s a one man mission.”

(“- _Zhengting, what the fuck are you doing? Hello??? Zhengting?”)_  

“Still the Oscar-winning performance, I see. I’m not much of a negotiator, though, so let me make it simple for you: I am a very close friend of the Huangs, I'm sure you've heard of them, and they’ve put a price on their missing heir. I wonder how _happy_ they would be, little family all reunited, if I told them his exact location, hm? I’ll even have my men ship him off to them myself. They wouldn’t have to lift a single finger.”

The air in Zhengting's lungs dissapear and the pounding in his head only grows fiercer. His mind spins with the memories of Justin’s bullet wound and scars and cigarette burns from a family that never was one. His blood boils.

“Justin has nothing to do with this. You’re a fucking coward,” He spits.

Minseok chuckles at that, eyes still deadly, “I’m playing your game the way you want it played. Drop the gun and start talking or the boy will be on a ship en route to Moscow first thing tomorrow. I know you know that I’m not lying, Zhengting. My men over the border in Hong Kong are on call, and it will take one click.”

Seconds tick past until Zhengting grits his teeth and drops the gun, hands falling defeatedly to his sides, “Fine.”

There is just enough time for Zhengting toss the hand grenade to Minseok's side and roll off his chair, desperately flattening himself against the ground.

“Zhangjing, Yanjun, he said it was the border. Their Hong Kong estates, Mong Kok territory. And," Zhengting chokes into the device, voice low and words slurring together as smoke begins to fill his lungs. "I’m sorry it couldn't be your call this time.”

The explosion is blinding and Zhengting watches as the scene before him turns into flaring lights, suspended like oncoming traffic, a blur of white and gray that deafens his senses and he closes his eyes, hoping with all his heart that the message went through.


	7. gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But with three of us, honey, it's a side show  
> And a circus ain't a love story  
> And now we’re both sorry

In hindsight, Xukun thinks that there isn’t one event that catapulted this back-and-forth between him and Zhengting. He just knows that Zhengting leaving had been the start, the first match unintentionally lit, until the fire had spread and left everyone burning in its wake, including Xukun.

They’ve only ever seen each other once after that night.

_It had been December, exactly one month before Yixing’s assassination would have been a success, before the stories would start making their way to headlines in the tabloids. Xukun knows he shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have picked up that phone and weaved up a fake weapon deal just to see Zhengting. He blamed it on the whiskey that’s been making his head a bit fuzzier than usual because there had been no one there to stop him from downing the whole bottle._

_So surely, it's not his fault._

_Zhengting shows up, though, of course he does, because he keeps to his promises._

_“I’m assuming XKC is you?” Zhengting said after he had gotten over his initial shock. If he’s upset or angry at Xukun, he didn’t show it. “Since when did Yixing run out of guns? I’m sure his arsenals are worth more than anything we could have.”_

_“I’m not here for the weapons, Zhengting.”_

_The elder finally looks up at that, tired lines on his face Xukun didn't remember being there are illuminated by the yellow streetlights._

_“You shouldn’t be here, Kun. There’s still a price on our heads, and it won't do you any good to be seen with me,” Zhengting says but his body gravitates toward Xukun. Even after all this time, his voice remains just as before. Although it’s in the same quiet, fleeting tone that used to tell Xukun to go to sleep before planting a wet kiss on his mouth that he says, “This can’t happen again.”_

_His eyes are guarded, as if the distance had taken a part of Zhengting and stripped him bare, peeling off another layer that Xukun couldn’t._

_“I just wanted to see you,” Xukun gathers himself before curling his hand around Zhengting’s arms, and he thinks it’s the most honest he’s ever been since forever._

_Xukun can see the understanding dawns on his face as Zhengting’s eyes softens into something else altogether, like he’s thinking the same thought. He almost expects Zhengting to lean in first, lips moving toward his own and thin arms slipping around Xukun the way he always does when Xukun’s cracks begin to show through._  

_Zhengting closes his eyes like he’s trying to regain composure and the moment dissipates. What’s left after is Xukun gripping his arm in a hold a little too tight and he assumes that Zhengting had figured out why he's like this: clingy, anxious, desperate. Zhengting gives him the privilege to use him, almost. (Because if he no longer enjoys the physical contact, then he’s being used, right?) Xukun could feel the hypothetical timer of how long he's allowed to touch him tick as Zhengting burns holes into his hand._

_Xukun lets go when he feels Zhengting shifts lightly._

_The worst part of it all is that he can feel it, can feel how desperately Zhengting wants this, wants_ them _. He tries one last time despite knowing it will end up fruitless._   _He thinks that he could give Zhengting a million last time's._

_“‘Ting, I could bargain with him. You can come back as long as you return the money you took,” Xukun’s voice is low, but Zhengting hears every word. “He trusts me, and I can help you prove your loyalty. It might take some time but--”_

_Zhengting does kiss him this time, but instead of it being everything Xukun had yearned for in the past year, it’s rough and hopeless and sad and Xukun hates himself for not wanting him to stop._

_He only pushed Zhengting away when he can feel the salty tears dripping onto his own cheeks._

_“Xukun,” Zhengting says shakily. “I can’t leave them. Those kids, they don’t have anyone but me, and I can’t-- what are we supposed to do? Grovel and beg to come back? They would kill us._ He _would.”_

 _The details all blur together into one cloudy mirage after that, Xukun only able to remember the painful grip Zhengting has on his arms and the sound of the car speeding off onto dim streets that won't bring Zhengting back to him._  

••••••

Linong taps his hands anxiously on the table. Xiao Gui’s fingers had been pressing non-stop on his game controller, fingers twitching slightly in nervousness.  

Xukun clenches his fist, the most emotion he’d shown since he had his hands had wrapped around Yanjun’s throat to choke an explanation out of him when he had been woken up five hours ago to hear that Zhengting had gone to see Jongdae behind his back, only to fall into Minseok’s trap and it all ended in the man pulling out a grenade. That hadn’t even been the worst part. After the explosion, Yanjun and Zhangjing had been unable to find Zhengting’s body - dead or alive. It was just gone, as if he never entered the building at all.

Xukun’s tongue is heavy in his mouth and he tastes copper from the blood inside his cheeks as he thinks about everything that’s happened in the span of the last twenty four hours. He didn’t know whether to be mad at Zhengting or Minseok – though, with Minseok confirmed dead, he had a clearer direction for his anger.

He tries to see the silver lining in this situation, he does, anything that will make sense of the noise in his head but all he can think about Zhengting and his stupid smile and the way he had come to Xukun the night before, eyes wide and pleading and pink lips tempting every fiber of his being, only to leave him to jump head first onto what he knew would be a time-bomb with no time to unwire.

“How could there be nothing there? What about Minseok?” Xukun tries again, desperate for an answer, but Yanjun sends him an apologetic look that makes the anger rise up all over again.

“Minseok’s body is only half of what it was before, the grenade blew him into bits immediately,” Zhangjing says. “At least we know Zhengting might not be dead-”

Zhangjing is interrupted by their door being opened and Ziyi walking in. However, they all realize that he’s not alone. The sight of Chengcheng and Justin being quickly shoved onto the floor, Bufan's gun pointed at them, makes Xukn raise a questioning eyebrow.

“I found these two loitering around in the back trying to break in. How did they even know this place?”

Xukun takes in the state of the two boys huddled together across the basement floor. Chengcheng has a long gash on his cheek and the two of them are handcuffed together. Chengcheng’s glare that seems to be permanently plastered on his face whenever Xukun is around makes an appearance once again.

“Where is Zhengting? We’ve been monitoring the territories in your transaction and it turns out neither you or him had gone to any of them. Establish order, huh? Just tell us the truth, asshole. Where is he?” Chengcheng grits out.

“How did you find this place?”

Now it’s Justin’s turn to scoff, “If you have to know, we noticed that the weapon shipments have gone to a single buyer only - someone called KJD - so we decided to trail one of our trucks and found Zhengting in the middle of a deal and followed him back to this place. You should get better security.”

“So where is he? Zhengting! Zhengting, come out!” Chengcheng shouts and thrashes in his cuffs.

“That won’t do anything. He’s not here,” Xukun sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “We’re trying to look for him, too.”

Chengcheng snaps his head toward Xukun’s direction, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Yanjun explains the entire ordeal to the boys from top to bottom and Chengcheng only tries to attack him once, which Xukun thinks is almost progress. Justin, however, is silent as he takes in the new bit of information, but he can see that the boy’s fists are held in tight, pale grips.

After a beat of silence, Justin says, “Release us. We won’t try to run.”

Chengcheng turns to Justin as if silently telling him that he probably won’t be able to follow through with that but Justin slips a hand into Chengcheng’s and squeezes. _Trust me._

It’s a small gesture, but Xukun can see so much of Zhengting in them. He almost hates it.

Ziyi looks at his leader hesitantly but uncuffs the two boys once Xukun gives him a nod of approval. They both rub at their wrists and Justin quietly makes eye contact with Xukun before speaking up.

“Look, as long as no body turns up,” He says slowly. “Zhengting is still alive.”

Yanjun jumps at that, adding on, “Yes. We expected to find a body, but there was nothing. So there’s a chance that he’s still alive. No news is good news, boss.” 

“I don’t know any of you, but I do know that we will find him, with or without your help,” Chengcheng says. “I’m assuming he hasn’t been just a prisoner, right?”

The last bit of that sentence is spoken to the room, but Xukun knows Chengcheng is directing it at him. The silver-haired boy is still angry, but his eyes are clear and resolute and there’s a different kind of determination in them. There’s hope.

“You’re right,” Xukun finally says. “We can’t just sit around and wait. We can’t afford to. Let’s find him. Let's find Zhengting.”

The sounds of chairs scraping fills the room as everyone stands up. They’re relieved to be freed from the agony of waiting and not being able to do anything. A new plan is set into motion and they can finally do something instead of sitting around speculating the possibilities of Zhengting’s fate. The question now is whether or not they can race with the time they don’t have. 

••••••

When Zhengting finally comes into consciousness, the first thing he registers is pain. His body is screaming and aching, but he hasn’t regained enough of his conscious to assess the damage. If there’s anything the burning in his arms and legs says, though, it’s that he’s still alive.

Before Zhengting could think any further, a sound of a door creaks open and seconds later, Kim Jongdae appears.

“Zhu Zhengting.”

Zhengting takes another look around the room before his eyes land on Jongdae.

“Mr. Kim. Is this an unknown business deal I don’t know about?” Zhengting rasps, his voice still haven’t been recovered from his deep sleep.

“A business deal, hm? Like the one you arranged with me two days ago?”

So it’s been two days since that meeting. This means that either Zhangjing and Yanjun have gotten the message and relayed it back to Xukun or he’s failed the mission. Zhengting doesn’t want to think about the third option.

“Yes, I never expected to see Kim Minseok, but I guess we all have our own surprises.”

That, apparently, had been the wrong thing to say because Zhengting feels a sharp pain in his abdomen from Jongdae’s kick and it knocks the breath out of his lungs.

“Let me remind you, Zhu Zhengting, this is no longer a negotiation. We're not at one of your fraud deals,” Jongdae sneers. “I never expected Minseok to make it out alive, but I never thought you would be that suicidal.”

Zhengting stiffens at that, eyes shooting up. If Jongdae hadn’t expect Minseok to live, then-

“It was a setup. You set up Minseok in that transaction knowing it was a trap,” Zhengting realizes all too late. "You were going to kill him."

Jongdae only stares down at him, unimpressed.

“It could have gone one of two ways, Zhengting. he could’ve gotten the information about the other rats out of you, _or,_ you could’ve shot him first so I don’t have to dirty my own hands. The only crease in the blueprint was your grenade. Even I never planned for you to pull that bomb on yourself. If my men hadn’t been quick enough, you probably would’ve been ashes by now.”

“I-- I don’t understand, isn’t Minseok on _your_ side? Why would you want him dead?”

Zhengting’s mind is running a million miles a minute as he tries to piece the puzzle together, but the throbbing pain in his body is making the process much harder than it should be. 

Jongdae doesn’t waste any time telling him, though.

“The same reason I wanted Baekhyun out of the equation. Have you ever heard that 'three’s a crowd'?” Jongdae smiles, but it’s malicious and twisted and Zhengting hates everything about it, but he hates himself more for not putting the pieces together sooner. “Minseok’s gun had been empty, and neither of you could have known that, so the threats about the Huang heir could have worked and prompted you to spill everything, or you could have taken the shot and end Minseok’s life. Except, you did neither, and that’s why we’re here.”

Zhengting struggles against his ropes to no avail, “What do you want from me?” 

The man smiles once again, and Zhengting is reminded of the exact reason why he wanted Chengcheng and Justin shielded from this world.

“You? Oh, no. It’s not you I want anything from. Let’s make a bet, okay? How long do you think it will take for Cai Xukun and his puppets to get here once they find out you’ll be waiting, hm?”

Zhengting tries not to let the panic show too visibly on his face, but Jongdae had probably already pinpointed his weaknesses as soon as he figured out who Zhengting was. He knows exactly what he cares about and it’s up to Zhengting now to try and keep himself from losing his composure.

“Just give it up. You’ve lost everything, Jongdae. Killing me won’t make a difference and you know that,” Zhengting tries to keep his voice from shaking. 

The Triad boss flinches at that and his expression morphs into one of irritation. Zhengting doesn’t even have time to blink before the sound of the gunshot rings through the empty building and there’s a blinding pain in Zhengting’s left leg. He screams until his voice exhausts itself before slumping back into the hard wooden chair.

“You’re right, it won’t. But that doesn’t mean I won’t make you wish you were dead.” The accented Chinese comes out stronger and Zhengting knows he's struck a hard nerve.

Zhengting glares up at him, “You’re doing this because I’m a rat, but what you did to Minseok, Baekhyun, even Yixing-- what makes it so different? You crave power, control, but you can’t have any of that without loyalty. What makes you think your men will still listen to you once they find out it was you that murdered their bosses behind their backs?”

Zhengting can see the slight clench of Jongdae’s jaw that lets him know his words are beginning to get to him, digging under his skin and feathering where his itch is tingling the most. It buys him a window of distraction just barely large enough for him slip his fingers into the slit between his belt and pull out the hairpin Zhangjing had clipped in. _For emergencies_ , he had said. Zhengting figures that now is as good a time as any.

One light click and the pin extends into a thin blade that’s just sharp enough to grind into the rope, but can still be hidden behind Zhengting’s frame and the occasional shifting that passes off as him trying to get more comfortable.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to preach anything to me right now,” Jongdae says slowly, emphasizing every word. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, since it’s clear that you don’t want to live to see dawn tomorrow."

The cold metal is pressed against Zhengting’s bloody forehead once again. He doesn’t flinch this time.

“Once your little friends get here, I’m gonna make sure they get what they deserve, and that in their last moments, they can hear the sound of your brains splattering on the tiles when I put a bullet through that pretty head,” Jongdae leans in close and Zhengting tries to calm his nerves. “And when this building goes up in smokes, the Syndicate will be finished, and I’ll be well on my way to fly off the grid before any of you fuckers can even beg for mercy.”

Zhengting waits until Jongdae is close enough before spitting his face. Jongdae staggers back in surprise before storming back to land another hard punch on Zhengting’s cheek.

“There's talk about you, Zhu Zhengting, The Syndicate’s Ace, they said, having been eliminated entire crime families in one night, no hours, even. They say any party you attend ends in death inevitably. Any person, too.”  
  
“ _You’re_ still here.”  
  
“And I’m gonna make you regret it.”  
  
“No,” Zhengting replies. “I don’t think so.”  
  
“Oh? Don’t you?” Jongdae cocks the gun once more, and Zhengting can see him already playing out the gruesome details of how he’d torture him in his head.  
  
Except, somehow, before Jongdae could process what has happened, Zhengting’s already flipped the chair out from beneath him and twirled it in the air, a flawless arch. Jongdae jerks away but it’s barely fast enough and the wooden back support misses his head by a hair’s length. Jongdae kicks the table forward and uses it as a shield while aiming his own gun.  
  
The pain is the first thing he registers. And then, when Jongdae sees the pistol sliding across the room, he finally realizes that Zhengting’s disarmed him. Jongdae tries hopelessly to kick the gun up with one foot, but it only slides out further. Zhengting is still faster on his feet even with a bullet inside his thigh. He flips and manages to kick the weapon right out of their window, the black metal soaring off into the distance.

••••••

Justin can’t sleep.

There’s an edge to him and he can’t figure out what it is. It might possibly have something to do with the fact that Zhengting hasn’t been found for nearly forty-eight hours. Sleepiness is overtaking Chengcheng, though, and it’s evident in the way he tries to mumble more complaints about Xukun into the crook of Justin’s shoulders while almost nodding off. Justin thinks it’s almost a talent.

He is thankful for the company, though, seeing as Chengcheng’s presence takes his mind off the problem at hand momentarily. The boy senses his uneasiness, of course, and he ruffles Justin’s hair as a gesture of comfort and he almost finds it ironic that Chengcheng is the one consoling _him_ this time instead of the other way around.

The fact is that Justin doesn’t think that he’s ready for this, this plan and whatever’s coming next. The only thing Justin’s holding onto is the blind hope that Zhengting is alive, he _has_ to be, and that he and Chengcheng no longer has to wait around and do nothing anymore. From what they’ve heard from Zhangjing, the taping bug never left Zhengting’s body, and while it’s been damaged in the explosion, the GPS function installed still works, which means they’ll be able to pinpoint his location once Zhangjing re-programs their receiver. If everything works, the location should match the same information Zhengting has told them.

Justin tries not to think about whatever strategies they’ll come up with tomorrow or the plan. His mind wanders to what it would be like when this is all over. If Zhengting doesn’t come back. If Zhengting _does_ come back. Justin isn’t stupid. He knows there is little chance their leader would come out unscathed, not after what Xukun’s group had just told them a few hours earlier of what The Triad was capable of, but it won’t change the fact that they’ll want him back no matter what, any bits and pieces he had left that Zhengting was willing to give. Justin doesn’t care just as long as he’s alive. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever wished for anything more in his life.

Justin doesn’t notice another presence in the room until he feels Xukun sit down next to him on the balcony, crossing his legs to match his own. The childish posture would have looked almost little funny on the mafia boss if Justin hadn’t already been so preoccupied.

“Minghao. Chengcheng,” Xukun greets.

Justin quickly realizes that they’ve never had a proper conversation since that day and the atmosphere becomes tense almost too quickly.

“We’ll take him back, right?” It’s the only thing Justin says and he doesn’t look at Xukun.

“Yes. I promise.”

Chengcheng, who had been quiet since the man’s entrance, balls his hands into fist and abruptly stands up, “ _No._ You can’t. You can’t just say that. You don’t know that he’ll make it tomorrow or not. So shut up _._  Don’t promise anything.”

There’s another silence that passes between the three of them before Chengcheng sits down and gathers himself enough to speak again.

“He promised. You know, before he left. It’s so stupid, but he said that he’d protect us, no matter what. He also promised that he would come back. And, _god,_  I wish that he would’ve just kept his mouth shut because we never needed any of it,” He stops, and then his voice gets much more subdued, “Sometimes I wish he would’ve stayed back then.”

That made Xukun snap up in surprise, a million emotions running through his head, but he can’t take his eyes off of the desperate flicker in the boy’s eyes. He knows that Chengcheng isn’t referring to their trade-off all those months ago.

For the first time, Xukun finds himself unable to say anything. No words seemed appropriate enough.

“I was confused for the longest time,” Chengcheng mumbles, all the fight from earlier seeping out of his body. “I hated you. I was jealous and bitter and I thought that he was only doing everything because he pitied us and used us as an excuse to escape. I mean, how can a couple of street rats like us be worth saving?

“But he did just that. And I hate him, because if-- if he dies tomorrow, I won’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do." 

The last of his sentence trails of into a sad crack and Chengcheng rips at the fabric of his shirt.

“Me too.”

Both Chengcheng and Justin look up in surprise. They didn’t expect Xukun to say anything.

“I was angry, too. At you. At Zhengting. God, he’s always been so stubborn. He fights for what he thinks is right, even if it costs him--  if it costs him everything. I convinced myself that he was selfish, and that he only thought about himself,” Xukun adverts his gaze to the floor. “I thought he committed the worst betrayal by running away, that he chose a better option over _me_. I realize now that it’s never been like that. There was no better option. That idiot wanted to protect everything in the world but himself. I won’t forgive him if he doesn’t come back alive tomorrow.”

“Right. I’ll kill him if he’s dead,” Justin chimes in, and it earns a few chuckles.

No one says anything for awhile after that, but it’s not an awkward silence. Rather, one of mutual understanding.

They’re far from being allies - or, god forbid, _friends_ , - but right now, the only common ground they have, one that comes in the form of an idiotic, self-sacrificing leader, might be the key to letting them understand each other better. Justin thinks that it’s not much, but it’s a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is wrapping up hopefully very soon and i'm thankful for all of you that stuck around even with the inconsistent updates and horrible plot and pacing and i appreciate every single one of you!!! <3 MUAH!


	8. flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got those jet pack blues  
> Just like Judy  
> The kind that makes June feel like September  
> I'm the last one that you'll ever remember

Xukun and Zhengting were a living travesty of what many would call love, except the word would never be uttered by either of them. They know much better than that. There is friction in the way they gravitate around one another, their differences much too polar for comfort, but it’s how they survive, grasping onto bits and pieces of whatever the other would give.

Except it’s that difference that becomes their downfall, when the friction becomes earthquakes and earthquakes become explosions and then there is nothing, only white noise as Zhengting brushes off the dust and comes out of the wreckage deciding that he would live for a different purpose, a different life, one that didn’t involve Xukun.

It could never be considered a proper relationship or, perhaps, even a relationship. There wasn't anything between them. It was convenience, was what it was. Bulletproof. Xukun thought that he hadn’t picked the short straw. How could he? He didn’t care, didn’t love Zhengting and Zhengting didn’t love him. They could have stay like this, smoke rings fading out and blurring his vision in that dark attic, pale, skinny body curled up to his side, because that’s the way they were.

Neither of them lived for themselves, had no purpose but to serve their makers and the Syndicate. Xukun had been fine with that until he wasn’t. Until Zhengting decided that he would give himself up (would give Xukun up) for Chengcheng and Justin and all of a sudden that same attic becomes a wide fucking empty space filled with remnants of what they used to be.

So, Xukun being Xukun, who did what he does best when everything gets too much, flees. Zhengting’s absence engulfs him like a relentless dark cloud and it follows him to missions, to the mess hall, to his bed. It makes him run faster, kill quicker, accuracy lethal in every single shot. It’s when he’s finally at the top, the best of the best, dubbed Yixing’s most trusted prodigy, second-in-command, that he realizes, this, this was what Zhengting needed from him. What he couldn’t give Zhengting was a choice. He’d always been outranked by someone else, always a step behind, slower. Xukun thinks that if he had enough power to stop everything, Zhengting wouldn’t have had to choose at all.

When Kim Jongdae calls him one night with a censored phone number and information about Byun Baekhyun’s whereabouts along with the exact time and location to kill him, Xukun didn’t hesitate.

••••••

“Zhengting sent out an order for a shipment to this address at three o’clock today. I assume it’s the hideout. I can get us inside one of the trucks,” Justin slides a piece of paper with an address scribbled on it across the table and it makes all of them look.

“Hold on, when exactly did he send out that order?” Zhangjing questions. “He was with us the whole time.”

“We received it at about seven on the day he went missing, why?” Chengcheng replies.

Yanjun slams his hands on the table and clenches his jaw, “It was right after he came into the building but before he met with Minseok, that sneaky bastard. You guys were his backup plan, in case we didn’t hear him through the comm.” 

“Wait. Wait. You said before that the shipment was sent addressed to KJD? It couldn’t be-”

Xukun pales.

“Kim Jongdae. Jongdae has Zhengting."

Zhangjing gives the piece of paper a one-over and types up a brief search on his laptop, “The address matches what he told us. Mongkok. We have our lead.”

Justin feels a strange sense of pride blooming through his chest and a quick glance at Chengcheng tells him the boy feels the same way. Zhengting had sent them a signal. He wanted their help, he _trusted_ them. The knowledge only works to steel their determination. Zhengting needs them, and this time they would not let him down.

“We have the location. All that’s left is to figure out who will be front line. I’m sure Jongdae won’t just hand him over,” Linong says. All eyes are on Xukun now, waiting for their leader to announce the next move.

“I will-”

“We will-”

The answers come from three different directions, Xukun, Chengcheng, and Justin now staring the others down, no one willing to give in.

“You two will just slow us down. It’ll be easier if I go in alone,” Xukun responds almost immediately. “Quicker escape with one person.”

Chengcheng scoffs, “I thought you were smarter than this. Did you not think that he would be expecting you? Do you want to die that bad or did Zhengting infect you with his martyr virus?”

That earns a glare from Xukun and it somehow adds to Chengcheng’s childish satisfaction. He sticks a tongue out at the leader, who only glowers in return.

“He’s right,” Justin cuts in. “Besides, we’re in charge of the shipment. It’ll be much easier for us to sneak in. 

The rest of them know the gist of it, about Chengcheng and Justin who have been taken under Zhengting’s wings. They’ve also guessed that the boys are the reason why Xukun had banned them from uttering Zhengting’s name as long as they’re around him.  

However, it’s the way Xukun treats the two boys that surprises them. In any other case, he wouldn’t even be negotiating right now. What Xukun says goes, and anyone who’s been with him for as long as each of them have knows as much. Yet right now, as Xukun stares down the stubborn boys currently arguing with him, they know he’s about to give in.

“Fine,” The leader finally says. “But it will be you, Chengcheng, me and Ziyi. I’m gonna be there and there won’t be a second opinion about it. Everyone else has a job to do anyway.”

“Look, if this is about your trust issues or whatever-” Justin starts.

“It will be dangerous. You both could die. I could die. This isn’t a heist at a gas station. We’re dealing with one of the most dangerous people in this business and I will not risk anything.”

_I will not risk your lives._

It goes unsaid, but Justin can read it in the way Xukun looks at them with concrete finality in his eyes. It’s the same look they get from Zhengting when he tells them to shut up and stay out of adult business, which they both know all too well is code for “stay where it’s safe because I don’t want to see you two get hurt.” Not that it’s ever worked, just like right now.

“We can keep our own. Don’t forget what we’re doing this for: our first priority is getting him out as quick as possible,” Justin replies, but his tone has softened considerably when reminding Xukun of their common goal.

Time passes by seamlessly in between them going over strategies and backup plans again for if and when things go wrong, Zhangjing strapping them down with equipment that are heavy enough to weigh down their bodies with every step. It’s nearing two in the morning when Justin is finally seated in the back of the shipment truck slowly heading away from the oversized compound. It turns the corner of the empty streets, dim lamps dragging dull yellow light across the bars of the truck and throwing shadows against Chengcheng’s face, which is currently morphed into a grimace.

Justin watches with a trembling heart as the mansion gets smaller and smaller in the distance, and he prays that when they see the familiar dull gray of the building again, all three of them would be here, together.

••••••

They finally pull into a gated compound that looks like another version of Xukun’s place.

Chengcheng rolls his eyes, “Is this a mob leader thing? It’s like he copy and pasted the blueprint of your place, just with less color if that's even possible. I'm making Zhengting repaint everything once we get him out of here.”

Xukun ignores his comment in favor of peeking out the barred openings of their truck. The entrance is guarded with three men on each side, and after a quick calculation Xukun decides that he and Ziyi could take them if it it was by surprise and they only had one gun each. He decides against it, though. They can’t afford to alert Jongdae of anything suspicious and a frontal attack would have their names written all over it in bold.

Zhangjing sends them a signal through the comm that tells them they’ll be entering the premises shortly.  

The group hold their breaths as Yanjun pulls his cap down and flashes the fake ID at the security guard on post.

“Lin Evan? Never heard of ya, you new?”

“ _I’m in the delivery unit. Boss got a shipment from THEO’s group. You can dial in to check, but my name should be in the system.”_

Zhangjing’s rehearsed lines ring through Yanjun’s chip and he repeats it to a T.

The guard eyes him down for a second but a quick scan of Yanjun’s code numbers shows a matching record. Zhangjing has always ben flawless with his details. The gate creaks open as the trucks pass through and they all let out a silent sigh of relief.

Once the trucks are parked andYanjun successfully convinces the security that he can handle the shipment and doesn’t need any help, they all pile all out. From there, they take the elevator. Chengcheng is visibly confused as to why they even have one for a building with only three stories, but he just attributes it to these mob leaders having too much money to spare. The ride from the lobby to the third floor is silent until the doors _ding_ open.

They don’t have to start guessing which room to start looking in because as soon as they step out onto the carpeted floor, there’s a loud crash that rings out from the end of the hallway.

Justin is the first to head toward the source the noise, but Xukun stops him.

“Wait, let me.”

••••••

Jongdae, Zhengting finds, doesn’t go down easily without a fight. He should have expected just as much from man who had single-handedly murdered his own members when he deemed them obstacles in his way to power and wealth. Jongdae is not deterred even as he is rendered weaponless, taking advantage of the bullet edged in Zhengting’s thigh and wrestles him to the ground, trying choke him out. It’s a dirty move, but that’s how everything is here.

“I thought I’d give your friends a little show once they get here, but you just had to make things difficult for me, didn’t you?” Jongdae says between hard pants as he twists Zhengting’s arms and pins them down onto the floor. His knee press directly onto the bullet wound and the pain makes Zhengting see white.

“Fuck you. You won’t touch them,” Zhengting spits. He knows he can’t hold out much longer as long as the wound isn't treated and the searing pain reminds him with every passing second.

“I won’t have to. I learned a little something from you after your meeting with Minseok. Let me tell you a secret: in exactly thirty minutes, this building will blow itself up into ash.”

Zhengting’s gut twists.

“Jongdae. You’re in a dead end. Threatening me won’t give you control over the Syndicate, it won’t bring back the money you’ve lost. But I will tell you one thing: I have a way out of here.”

Jongdae’s eyes turn into slits and he reaches for a beer bottle scattering nearby, slamming the glass down onto the tiles and pointing the shards toward Zhengting’s throat.

“I know your game, Zhengting. It won’t work this time.” 

Zhengting’s eyes are a placid calm, motionless, and he stares right back.

“I have men in the airport thirty minutes away from here, my turf, men that owe me favors. You won’t even need a passport, just your belongings in a bag small enough to carry. What you _do_ need is me _._ The ticket on that plane is my approval and they won’t take anything less than face-to-face.”

Jongdae swallows once and there’s a beat of silence that tells Zhengting the man is considering his deal. That’s how he knows the Triad member must be on edge. In the underground, fear is a sign of weakness, and it is not something Kim Jongdae is often associated with. But Zhengting can feel it, smell it even, palpable in the air.

Zhengting edges him on and pushes the last button. He doesn’t know why, but the need to buy time thrums through his veins, forcing the next words out of his mouth, “I know you’re expecting a catch, but there isn’t. It’s a clean deal.”

“Clean deal,” Jongdae replies. “And all this just for those rats’ lives? No bullshit?”

“No bullshit.”

Zhengting is so close he can almost taste it. He knows Jongdae is wavering and will take the bait because he’s got no other choice.

Then, within seconds, the tension snaps like a rubber band pulled too tight when the door slams open. The two of them freeze and Zhengting is greeted by a sight he never thought he would get to see again.

••••••

The pristine emptiness of the white room stretches back in a square, leaving just enough room for there to be a single table and chair. The latter broken to pieces in what looked to have been a malicious fight.

But what Xukun sees isn’t the room, but something he wished he never would have to.

Zhengting is on his back, and Xukun's attention is immediately on the puddle of red oozing around his left leg. Zhengting's body is towered over by Kim Jongdae, who only stares back at him with cold, hard eyes that complement his devilish features.  

“You made it.” 

He registers the sound of Justin’s small gasp behind him and Xukun’s finger closes around the trigger, ready to fire until-

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Xukun.”

Xukun’s blood is pounding in his ears to match the wild rhythm of his heartbeat. 

Jongdae’s fingers curl around Zhengting’s collar and pulls him upright into a sitting position. The sudden movement makes Zhengting’s eyes squeeze shut in pain.

Jongdae ignores it, “Right now, I have this bottle pointed at his neck. It would be rather unfortunate if my hands were to slip, no?” The shards press closer and closer to the veins on Zhengting’s pale neck with every word. Xukun’s breath comes out sharply, but he eventually lowers his gun after a moment of consideration.

A wounded Zhengting is better than a dead Zhengting. He can see that Justin and Chengcheng hold the same sentiment because they drop their weapons only seconds after he does.

Jongdae laughs, a jarring sound that holds little humor.

“You all seem to love playing house. Well, I’ll humor you,” The Triad member says and his attentions focuses on Justin. “Kick the gun over here or this bottle goes in his neck.”

"Don't do it. He's bluffing. He needs me to get out of here," Zhengting finally manages to wheeze out, breaths labored.

"Oh? And are you willing to take that bet?" Jongdae sneers.

None of them are. It's too risky. Too much to lose. He slides the hand gun across the room in one swift motion.

Jongdae abandons the bottle in favor of picking up the black metal and presses it against Zhengting’s head, who is silent throughout the entire ordeal, but a closer look shows that his pupils are shaking, hands curled into pale fists. From fear or from pain, Xukun doens’t know, but he guesses it’s both. Seeing him in such a state has his mind reeling and pulse hammering. A foreign bead of sweat rolls down Xukun's temple and it only makes him want to give everything up and surrender if it would relieve Zhengting of his pain.

No amount of territories or money is ever worth this, Xukun thinks as the sight of a barely coherent Zhengting gasping for breath is ingrained into the back of his mind. Nothing is ever worth this.

“Jongdae, the deal, the plan with Baekhyun, everything was between you and I, just let him go.”

Jongdae laughs again, but the sound is grating this time, harsh. It makes him cringe. Jongdae’s eyes wide and bloodshot, and his grip on Zhengting only becomes tighter. He resembles a wounded wild animal backed into a corner, slowly losing grip on sanity and acting merely on animalistic instinct. 

“Good try, Xukun.”

Xukun doesn’t get to blink before the shot rings out and Zhengting’s body slumps forward, landing on the ground with a sickening thud.

It’s like the rest of Xukun moves on automatic after that and a scream he doesn’t recognize as his own pierces through the air. Xukun snatches Chengcheng's gun, slamming it against Jongdae’s forehead. The man doesn’t flinch, only responding with a maniacal grin.

Xukun doesn’t think twice when he empties his pistol and watches as Jongdae's body drops cold. He doesn’t realize the gun had long since run out of bullets and there’s a rushing sound in his ears until Chengcheng appears in front of him to shake him back to his senses.

“Xukun! Xukun! Stop it! Stop! He’s gone, we have to go. There’ll be a time bomb going off in ten, we have to get Zhengting out. Please, Xukun. Let’s go."

It’s as if the muscles in his hand all turn into jelly as he releases his hold on the gun. Xukun finally turns to see a sobbing Justin kneeling over Zhengting, who looks far too lifeless, too _cold_ to be his Zhengting.

There’s too much blood. Red, red, red everywhere. On his hands, in his vision, on the wall, on Zhengting.

“Xukun! _Help!”_ Justin’s voice is a broken sob, tone panicked and scared and it makes Xukun snap up just in time to see Zhengting spluttering.

That’s really all it takes before he rushes over and scoops Zhengting up into his arms, trying his hardest to avoid the bullet wounds and failing, struggling his way to the door.

It all feels so wrong, like he’s watching someone else’s life unfolding across his very eyes, a movie he’s forced to see. It’s wrong that he can barely feel Zhengting’s heartbeat even though he’s right here, lying against his own chest, and it’s wrong that his face is paling far too quickly to be considered normal.

And for the first time in all his years of being alive, Xukun thinks that he has something to lose. Something is at stakes. And he’s terrified, blood running icy in his veins _._

Xukun doesn’t remember how he’s able to reach the elevator, but when it opens he’s greeted by Yanjun, all worried eyes and outstretched hands as he tugs Zhengting into his arms when he notices Xukun can barely stand on his own two feet. He follows the rest of them into the elevator numbly, still unable to take his eyes off of Zhengting.

They race to the entrance, Xukun’s legs pushing and pushing and pushing him toward the truck, toward safety.

Yanjun yanks open the door with one hand and places Zhengting’s body down onto the hard bench of the truck, wasting no time to get himself seated into the driver’s seat. He slams his feet onto the gas pedal and Xukun can vaguely hear Zhangjing yelling for him to be _quicker, quicker, quicker._

The deathly silence in the truck is filled by the low rumbling of the engine and, after a short while, when they’re far enough that everything sounds almost muted, Chengcheng pushes the windows open and they all watch as the last of the building goes up in flames.

“Zhengting, please.”

_Please be okay._

They're speeding out of the gate, quite literally, Yanjun not hitting the brakes even once as he slams through the metal gate and zooms away, leaving the building to collapse on itself behind them.

“I know,” Zhengting answers weakly, his voice choking over the burning feeling of bullet wedged inside his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. But just in case - hey, stop looking at me like that - this is just in case anything happens, tell Justin he’s not allowed to touch my stash.”

“...Drugs?”

“No, chocolate.”  
  
Xukun tries to laugh, barely, but it comes out all strangled and panicked and wrong instead because Zhengting still hasn't stopped bleeding and his eyelids are drooping as each second passes.

“He’s right here. You tell him yourself.” 

Zhengting chuckles, but his eyes are far away as he stares up at the roof of the container, “He is? Huang Minghao, you never listen to me.”

Justin slips a shaking hand around Zhengting’s and there are fat drops of tears rolling down his cheeks, “Yes, dummy, you’re in no place to tell me that.”

Zhengting turns to look at the boy, struggling to keep his eyes open, “Chengcheng, too?”

“I hate you.” The reply comes from no other than the boy himself, but Chengcheng is far from angry as he furiously wipes away his tears and snot.

Zhengting feels his heart cracking a little, another wedge of heartbreak lodging itself between his ribcage as he takes a look at those boys, _his boys_ , whom he’s tried so hard to protect all these years. Who are now here, risking their lives, because they want to protect him instead.

“Yeah, I’m glad.” The reply only makes Chengcheng bawl harder.

As darkness begins to envelop him and every face in his vision becomes more and more blurry, Zhengting wonders, briefly, about another life, one in a quiet house in the suburbs, where the first thing he reaches for in the morning when he wakes up is Xukun’s hand instead of a gun. But then he thinks about Yixing and Baekhyun and the idea dissipates like a cloud of smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the immense support over the last few months, i know the updates haven't been the most consistent, but thank you for reading anyway. the next chapter will be the last and i'm so happy to have shared this small project with you guys like this, there will (hopefully) be an epilogue and that will conclude homemade dynamite so stay tuned!
> 
> also!!!! this is a bit overdue but here's a little  [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/12143294020/playlist/3tdOOxRjRUjKtmQUgiYqjX?si=71bW6DhxTFeQmAWIbT3ZLw) for the fic that i made, enjoy!


	9. finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we know we're classic together like egyptian gold

It wasn't like Zhengting hadn’t heard or felt the flare of a gunshot before, the motion integrating itself into the very core of his being, along with its residue smoke and the rush of adrenaline milliseconds before bullet meets air.

All of this have become second nature to Zhengting ever since he learned how to shoot a gun at the tender age of sixteen. He knows the anatomy of a gun like the back of his hand, and years of rookie accidents have made Zhengting more than familiar with the feeling of a bullet in his flesh.

Which is why this ghost pain in his shoulder and leg, Zhengting knows, cannot be real.

In the back of his mind, or at least the part that’s conscious enough to actually process everything that’s happened to him, Zhengting can register the low murmurs of what sound like voices, but they’re all drowned out by the dull throb in his body.

Zhengting knows he can’t be feeling the blinding pain of a bullet _now_ because he’s already been shot, and if there’s one thing Zhengting can differentiate, it’s the feeling of a fresh wound - paralyzing and sharp - from that of an older one.

Looking out from what he guesses is a barred window, there is a canvas of a thousand little lights in the sky to remind him of why he was here. Outside the cities, Beijing’s night skies are often littered with them. Entire skies full of cold, distant lights that had skylines to limit them, reminding him just how finite everything was.

Yet they were still so distant.

It reminds him of why his being here was important, why it mattered. Not that he could ever forget. It reminds him of the same sky on the night Xukun had approached him on his balcony, when Zhengting had selfishly allowed himself to think that maybe he could just throw everything behind, stop time, and stay in those few seconds forever, not worrying about yesterday, or tomorrow, or anything after that.

Maybe he could be a star too, like this, floating and letting the lack of gravity take control of his body until he’s nothing but a speck in the distance. Maybe he could take Xukun with him too. They’d talked about it once before, going to see the stars. 

Xukun had barked out a laugh when he mentioned it, “ _I bet Yixing would be thrilled to hear you want to quit to become an astronaut.”_

Zhengting had been giddy off of the alcohol then, throwing his head back in laughter. He remembered thinking that he would never really have to go far in search of any stars in the galaxy as long as Xukun continued to look at him the way he did.

Xukun. Xukun. Right, Xukun. Where was Xukun?

He hoped the boy wasn’t off doing something stupid like worrying about him and getting himself in trouble again.

" _-Yanjun, can you step on it?_ "

_“The truck can’t go any faster than this, Xukun.”_

“ _Well, make it!”_  
  
Maybe if there had been a horizon, if the sky hadn’t been so dark and clouded, he could have dug his fingers into the line of it and dragged himself towards it.  
  
Maybe if he could just-  
  
_“Zhengting, don’t close your eyes-"_  
  
-hold his hands over these stars, pretend they’re Chengcheng and Justin and Xukun, everything he ever wanted to protect, he could hold them all between his fingers. Limit them, contain them.  
  
But his hands were floating somewhere beside his body, much too heavy now.  
  
_"-better not be fucking dea-"_

It’s black. Then gray. Static colors floating, floating, floating.

And Zhengting stops keeping track as his vision fades in and out of a kaleidoscope of fluorescents he can’t seem to take his eyes off of. All of a sudden, Zhengting is taken back to too many summers ago, watching the memory play through his mind like a broken cassette tape, bits and pieces missing, but the nostalgia it brings is so real it almost sucks all the air out of Zhengting’s lungs.

He watches himself lay his head on Xukun’s lap, smile impossibly bright. (Had he really let his hair grow that long?) Zhengting would have laughed at the image of his younger self if he hadn’t been distracted by the way Dream Xukun gazed at Dream Zhengting as he turned away, ranting endlessly about a future that they could never have. Zhengting watches as Dream Xukun chucks the dwindling cigarette away and links his fingers with Dream Zhengting’s, soft lips swallowing the rest of his sentence. Zhengting thinks, then, that there’s an entire universe in his hands.

It’s like a film, except he can physically feel every stutter of Dream Zhengting’s heartbeat, the first sign of longing that he knows now would lead to something much deeper than anything they could handle.

 _"We’re almost there, hang on-"_  
  
Zhengting thinks that this was the closest he was ever going to get to being honest. To himself. To Xukun.  
  
Maybe he had been a hypocrite all along; trying so hard to protect Justin and Chengcheng from everything he never had the courage to face. How could he? When he couldn’t even get over his own cowardice,when he was the one who had been selfish enough to leave everything behind and flee.

People like him could never belong anywhere, unable to truly care for anyone without dragging them down in the process.

Flecks of red flicker across the in his vision. He barely notices it.  
  
_"-don't move. If you fucking die, I'm going to-"_  
  
Maybe a nice, soft job in some company’s office would have suited him better. A nine-to-five. Something with a concrete plan and stability. One where consistent paychecks and yearly vacations would stop him from wanting the ground to swallow him up whole everytime he thinks about the way Xukun looked at him that night in December. Something that would never come with the realization that all of this, every piece and every single moment, was so infinitesimal.

Something that would prevent his mind from spiraling on nights where flashes of previous missions would haunt him, pulling Zhengting out of his skin; images of bleeding corporate leaders on the ground with their bodies bent at unnatural angles like a deadweight sinking down onto his chest until he can’t breathe. On nights like those, he has to force himself out of bed to check on Chengcheng and Justin to make sure that they were still in bed and were not the same bodies plaguing his nightmares.

 _"Holy shit, he’s convulsing, there’s too much blood, someone-"_  
  
Ten points of pressure grabbed his shoulders and shook frantically, sending the little red dots spinning into dark corners. Swirling masses of stars.

 Captivating, but still so distant.

 _"Shitshitshitshit-"_  
  
Or maybe that was just how everything was always meant to be for him. Out of reach.

 _"Don't you fucking close your eyes you-"_  
  
_"Zhengting?! Zhengting?!"_

••••••

If asked, Chengcheng would begrudgingly admit that he’s the one who more often found himself in situations where either Justin or Zhengting was forced to console him, whether it be over petty arguments or bigger issues that lead to raised voices and slamming doors.

Although every time, without fail, he knows Zhengting would find him. No matter what corner Chengcheng finds himself sulking in, Zhengting seemed to always know where he would be.

So it must be the universe’s way of shitting on him, then, because Zhengting is here, physically, but no matter how hard Chengcheng wishes to hear the sound of Zhengting calling for him again, it is only in vain.

The wait is excruciating, and the two of them feel it in their very bones, the hope that’s dwindling into something smaller and smaller with every hour Zhengting remains motionless, until it becomes something that’s barely there at all.  

Chengcheng had been rotating back and forth from Xukun’s headquarters and their own in secret with the help of Ziyi, who’s trying his best to help them keep everything from spiraling into complete chaos. Zhengting has that effect on people, Chengcheng thinks. The idiot barely thinks before he does anything, and it forces the people around him to instinctively shield him from his own messes. It’s not out of kindness, but the collective fear that Zhengting will dive headfirst into his death one day, on purpose or not.

From anyone else’s perspective, it might seem normal, obvious even, that Chengcheng being the elder of the two would be the one to take control of the business while Zhengting is unable to.

To him, it’s a complete nightmare.

While Zhengting entrusted the two of them to the same resources, the same access to his connections and money because _you two will have to learn to take care of each other one day_ , they all know that Justin is the one with the better grip on their trade, second only to Zhengting’s in terms of dexterity and knowledge.

And Chengcheng would have been fine with that, all too happy to have his number one concern in life being occupying himself with learning new types of poison, and also trying to see how many fruit loops he can fit into his mouth at one time.

It would have been simple if it’d worked out like that; Justin becoming a young boss, taking control of international deals and squashing down rival groups almost as effortlessly as Zhengting would have. That’s the Justin that Chengcheng had known since Zhengting had taken them with him three years ago, wind on their tail and hearts jumping in their ribcages.

This Justin, however, is another matter.

This Justin, who could barely look at Zhengting without bursting into either a rage fit or tears up until only last week, was in no shape to even leave the manor, much less direct any shipments. So while they share the same pain, Chengcheng understood, as his heart clenches painfully at the sight of Justin’s red-rimmed eyes, that he would be the one to carry the burden this time.

When he enters the bedroom, Chengcheng is immediately greeted by the sight of thin shoulders slumped over white bed sheets. From this angle, he could see Justin’s small hands intertwined with Zhengting’s pale ones.

Chengcheng sighs, and puts down the boxed meal that Zhangjing had pushed into his arms minutes before.

“He’s been in there for the past four hours. Get him to eat something, at least a little,” The elder had told him.

Chengcheng promptly rolled his eyes at that. What was he? Justin’s nanny? But he took the bag from Zhangjing’s hands anyway.

“Huang Minghao, get up,” Chengcheng nudges Justin’s legs with his own foot, startling the younger awake. He almost chuckles at this feeling of deja vu. Justin had been the one to startle him awake all those months ago while he was half-conscious, although their circumstances had been much different back then.

“Cheng, when did you get here?” The voice that replies to him is scratchy, an indication that the boy most likely had been crying not much earlier. Justin’s shoulders are slumped, eyes lowered and red from how much he’s rubbed them, trying to remove the pricking and itching from having his eyelids open for too long.

Chengcheng doesn’t answer. Instead he pushes the soup container and the plastic spoon in Justin’s direction without a word.

“I’m not hungry.”

Chengcheng only clicked his tongue and glared, “I didn’t ask you if you were hungry. Now eat or I’m kicking you out.”

They both know it’s an empty threat, but it makes Justin takes the meal from Chengcheng’s hands anyway. 

“How is he?” Chengcheng asks and plops himself down into the armchair.

A heavy silence drapes over the room, the only sound heard throughout being the impersonal beeping of the heart rate monitor. Chengcheng supposes he should be thankful it’s beeping at all.

“He’ll wake up. He has to. I still haven’t beaten him up for everything he’s put us through,” Justin frowns, but the note of desperation seeps through his voice like water between cracks, and Chengcheng can only muster a sad smile.

They pass the time in silence, and when Justin finally looks over, he finds the elder already slumped against the armchair, dead asleep. Justin can only watch,a few exhausted tears slipping out as Chengcheng curls in on himself.

When the sun lowers on the horizon, its light filters through the windows, making the tired lines etched on Chengcheng’s forehead stand out even more than usual. Justin feels a pang of guilt jolting through him, and it serves to remind him that he wasn’t the only one hurting.

Chengcheng has been carrying the weight of what Zhengting left behind for the past two weeks alone, while Justin mopes and cries and throws tantrums that are much too out of character, even for him.

When the last bit of light finally disappears behind the skyline, Justin squeezes Zhengting’s cold hands as way of apologizing.  

_I’ll do better, Zhengting. I promise. You don’t have to worry about us, so wake up. We can’t do this without you._

With that, Justin finally strolls over to the armchair and places his own jacket over Chengcheng’s awkward sleeping form, planting a firm peck to the boy’s forehead, leaving with the door tightly shut.

••••••

“He made it through the worst of it after we removed the second bullet, but it’s hard to say when he’s expected to wake up. I’m sorry,” The private physician says to Xukun’s back, tone careful and gentle. Too much so. Apologies are routine at this point, have been for the past few weeks. It makes Xukun want to punch a hole through the nearest hard surface. “You can check back in a few days, but I had to be honest with you.”

So that’s that, then. Zhengting’s as good as a breathing corpse.  
  
Xukun stands there for a while staring at the man’s limp body, which has been locked in that room for the past three days, covered in white fabric that’s even paler than his already ghostly skin. Xukun wishes he could smash a fist through the glass and rip those bandages and tubes off of Zhengting, carry him back to their room and look after him himself. But he can’t. Zhengting is theirs now, not his, and there’s nothing he can do for him even if he wants to.

Xukun thinks hard about Zhengting. His Zhengting. Not the Zhengting currently hooked to a beeping machine that’s barely keeping him alive, body much too cold and motionless to belong to the man that’s always trailing behind his own shadow, arguing and nagging and getting on Xukun’s very last nerve. He thinks about all the things he would trade a thousand times over to hear Zhengting’s voice berating him for making dangerous decisions again.

An image of a younger, happier Zhengting pops into Xukun’s head and he gently runs his fingers back and forth across his wrist, a gesture of comfort. For Zhengting or for himself, he doesn’t quite know.

••••••

Ziyi can’t remember the last time he’s seen Xukun look the way he does, almost like something had been ripped apart from him.

When Ziyi opens the hatch to the storage unit, he doesn’t really expect to find Xukun in there. He’d searched the entire building, and simply doesn’t know any other places to look for him anymore. Still, Ziyi is slightly taken aback when he spots the other man crouching with his back slumped against the opposite wall, his legs drawn up to his chest, chin resting on top of his knees.  
  
He can’t see Xukun’s face because the other man keeps it buried into his arms. But for a split-second he’s almost sure that Xukun is crying.  
  
Which, of course, he is not.  
  
Or is he?  
  
Ziyi can’t tell for sure, and it makes him strangely uncomfortable; or lost, rather. He can handle a Xukun that is seething with rage, a Xukun that is taking it out on his rivals’ underlings just because it makes him feel better – more in control. He can deal with a lot of things, having been with Xukun since he helped him craft the blueprint for his revolt all those years ago.  
  
What he can’t deal with is this.

A devastated Xukun.  
  
Without the slightest sound, Ziyi crouches down in front of Xukun and reaches out, gently touching his hair.  
  
Xukun startles with a yelp, instinctively grasping Ziyi’s wrists. His eyes are dry, so he hasn’t been crying, but Ziyi can see the hurt in his features before he’s able to mask it with feigned annoyance.

He takes in a silent breath.

“You love him.”

It was less a question than a statement, one that Ziyi has known probably since the day Xukun announced that the newest addition to their crew would be Zhu Zhengting.

“Doesn’t matter now, he’s gonna die anyway,” Xukun replies, barely moving from where he’s stationed in the cramped space.

Ziyi doesn’t argue, not wanting to say anything that will set Xukun off.

He doesn’t have to, though, because soon after Xukun breaks the silence, “Even if he wakes up, it’s not like he’ll stay. Back then and even now, he’d never choose to stay.”

Everything had been simpler back before Xukun joined the Syndicate: when he had nothing and no one, and didn't care who crossed him as he fought his way out of the streets until he met Yixing; when he didn't understand things like being considerate of someone's fucking feelings or looking after anyone but himself because those were the things that got you killed. Weaknesses.

None of it had ever factored into his world—you just survived no matter what, and hoped you didn't fuck up badly enough along the way to end up with a bullet in your back.  
  
It’s ironic, because Zhengting is now the one with the bullets in his body - and Xukun thinks that he would much rather it had been him.

“But do you want him to?”

Ziyi’s question almost startles Xukun, and he looks back in confusion.

“What?”

“Do you want him to stay?”

It’s the same question he’s asked himself ever since Zhengting turned up to bail out his boys. Scratch that, since the very fucking beginning when Zhengting had grimaced and smiled stupidly at him, pointing to the tattooed numbers on his wrist. Xukun thinks that he’s had the answer to that question since long ago.

••••••

It’s the fourth week when Zhengting wakes to the sound of beeping monitors, the soft whoosh of different machines buzzing in his ears. The first thing he notices is how much his ribcage and leg hurt and that there’s a definite sharp stabbing pain every time he inhales.

Someone’s gripping his hand tightly, brushing over his palm, tracing the lines that some people believe tell their life story. Zhengting’s eyelashes stick together when he tries to blink awake, and it takes him a few tries before he can fully open his eyes, peering up at the blank ceiling.

“Zhengting?” The words are spoken quietly, hesitantly, almost as if the owner of the voice is afraid to hope.

Zhengting rolls his head, turning to look at Xukun who is sitting by his bedside, eyes wide and tinted red around the edges from both exhaustion and tears.

“Hey,” Zhengting whispers, and his voice is raspy and thick after not being used for so long.

Xukun should be mad. He really should be, but he can’t find it in himself to feel anything but relief right now because Zhengting looks so small in the bed, soft chocolate hair contrasting heavily with the white pillowcase, large eyes peering up at him nervously as if waiting for Xukun to explode at any second now. Which reminds Xukun that he should be mad, and he would be if he hadn’t been too busy coming to terms with the fact that that Zhengting is alive and here and it’s not some cruel fragment of his imagination.

“Kun?” Zhengting whispers, just to make sure, just to check that he’s really here, and Xukun cracks his eyes open.

“Yeah?” The voice that replies to Zhengting is crackly and thin and quiet, but it’s still Xukun, still warm and familiar and perfect.

“I’m sorry,” Zhengting says and flinches in preparation, half-expecting Xukun to snap out of whatever trance he’s in and start yelling at him for ruining the operation by going off on his own.

When Zhengting finally realizes after a few long seconds that no yelling would be happening anytime soon, he opens his eyes only to see Xukun’s gaze still strained on him.

The air leaves Xukun’s lungs in a slow exhale and his thumb brushes over Zhengting’s knuckles. “Don’t leave me.”

The shock barely allows Zhengting to respond coherently, his mouth gaping open and he finally has half a thought to close it, realizing how ridiculous he must look.

“I don’t know how to be without you. So don’t leave me.”

Zhengting takes another look at Xukun and realizes that his hands are shaking, and the bruise-like circles under Xukun’s eyes speak his worries better than anything else. It’s like the man has exhausted himself of any energy, and even standing here in front of Zhengting takes effort.

“Oh, Xukun,” The realization makes Zhengting’s chest clench, and he can already feel a thin veil of wetness appearing behind his own eyelids. “I won’t. I promise. This won’t happen again next time.”

“Next time?” Xukun glares and Zhengting musters a teary laugh. “You clearly don’t know what you did wrong if you think I’ll let a ‘next time’ happen.”

Zhengting only laughs and reaches his hands out to make a grabbing motion; Xukun almost rolls his eyes at the childish gesture. It’s his defeat in the end, though, because less than a second later Xukun finds himself leaning down and capturing Zhengting’s lips against his own.

His body acts on selfish impulse this time, and Xukun could barely control himself from doing anything that will pull on Zhengting’s stitches.

Xukun kisses Zhengting like he’s dying of thirst and Zhengting is his only source of water; desperately, fervently. He hovers over his body at first, groaning softly, the sound guttural and low in his throat as his arms eventually circle around the back of Zhengting’s neck, pulling the man’s face up against his own, Zhengting’s body growing weaker as their lips mold together in an ardent frenzy.

Xukun’s lips on his feels like a luxury and Zhengting allows himself to indulge. To just take and take and take, knowing that Xukun would give him exactly what he needs.

Before it can go any further, though, they’re both interrupted by the sound of two loud gasps by the door.

It takes Chengcheng and Justin three big steps to reach Zhengting’s bed and another small one for them to drape their bodies onto Zhengting’s, effectively crushing him in a tight hug.

Before Zhengting can even react, Justin is already leaning forward, hovering over his body with trembling lips and wet tears already dripping onto his forehead, “You idiot. You idiot. I hate you. God, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

Zhengting only smiles up at him, tired eyes filled with nothing but fondness at the sight of his boy, “Of course I’m okay, I’m always okay.”

Justin creates a mock fist even with tears racing down his cheeks and fakes a punching motion. Zhengting can only smile, quietly shushing Chengcheng and running his free hand through the boy’s hair, waiting for his sobs to die down.

It’s almost a funny sight, his boys tripping over themselves to ask if he was okay while reprimanding him at the same time, all tears and snot and hiccups mixed in between.

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced,” Justin said, body squished against Zhengting’s side. The bed is nowhere near big enough to fit all three of them, but somehow it works. They work. “I’ve never been so scared before in my life, not even when I ran away from my family. Never do that to us again.”

Chengcheng doesn’t verbally state his agreement, but Zhengting can feel the older boy’s rapid nods from where he’s currently buried in Zhengting’s other side, head lying snug in the crook of his arm.

The mention of Justin’s family reminds Zhengting of something, and his mind flashes to Jongdae’s voice echoing threats about the Huang family and their missing heir. It makes him tense enough that Xukun is able to sense his discomfort, “Stop it.”

“What?”

“Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking. I already know it’s something stupid. We already took care of everything. Your job right now is to rest. No thinking.”

Chengcheng scoffs through his sniffles, “As if he ever does that anyway.”

To which Xukun lets out a loud snort.

Zhengting raises his hand up in an attempt to smack Chengcheng’s oversized head, but the movement tears at one of his stitches, reminding him of his (very mortal) body’s current condition, and he can only slump back down in defeat, glowering at the three boys, “Since when are you guys best friends? I can’t believe you’re ganging up on me!”

“Alright, alright. Be good. We’ll let you rest for now. Don’t do anything stupid while we’re gone,” Justin snickers and pats Zhengting’s cheek teasingly before climbing off the bed and giving him back his space.

Chengcheng follows quickly, but not before pulling Zhengting’s blanket all the way up to his chin.

“Zhengting, sleep.”

The morphine drip seems to finally be kicking in as Zhengting’s eyelids weigh down by the second, and he slips seamlessly into unconsciousness, but not before hearing a quiet:

“Thank you for coming back.”

That night, Zhengting has the first dreamless sleep he’s had in months.

••••••

When the initial excitement of his recovery finally dies down, Zhengting finally decides that he’s sick of being bed-ridden all day because he’s _fine,_ there are no more bullets in his body and he can walk on his own now. Probably.

Xukun is obviously less than happy about it, but he still lets Zhengting join them in the group’s first meeting since the incident.

“Alright, first order of business, I want to address the elephant in the room,” Yanjun says when every seat at the table is filled. “I think we all know what I’m talking about: Mr. Fan Chengcheng, I know you’ve been raiding our pantry. Don’t think we didn’t notice. Zhengting, do you not feed him back home?”

Chengcheng’s reply comes in the form of a shoe that’s coming at very high speed toward Yanjun’s direction, and Justin has to pull him back down from where he’s trying to sock Yanjun in the face.

“Alright, I’m _kidding_ ,” Yanjun ducks behind Zhangjing, who only rolls his eyes and elbows him instead. “In all seriousness, welcome back Zhengting. I missed you. I’ll also murder you with my own hands if you ever do that again.”

Zhengting chuckles in response. He didn’t notice how much he had missed this casual bantering within their rag-tag little group. Times like this, they look younger, much more like what others their age should be.

Xukun clears his throat and directs his attention to Zhengting, Chengcheng, and Justin, “After the….incident, we’ve had lots of time to think, and there will be many more repeats of this. With the way things are, I think that it’s best for the three of you to form a sort of alliance with us. For your own protection.”

Zhengting’s eyes hardened at that and immediately opened his mouth to protest, “Xukun, we can protect ourselves just fine. We don’t need babysitters.”

“That’s not what I mean. It’s a precaution. Who knows what kind of shit will be pulled next time. We have more than enough enemies, Ting, you know that.”

“Xukun is right. We may have eradicated the Triad’s direct leaders and their members will be Russia’s problem now, but who’s to say that there won’t be another Jongdae or Minseok,” Linong chimes in from where he’s been sitting quietly. “You’re the only who’s been with the Syndicate under Yixing, just like us, we know you. It’s the most viable option.”

Zhengting scans the other awaiting faces of the room and his eyes finally land on Justin’s. To his surprise, the boy looks like he wants to agree with the rest of them. It seems like he’s missed out quite a lot.

Zhengting sighs, “I-I’ll think about it.”

A frown forms on Xukun’s lips at his non committal answer, but he doesn’t push any further, knowing it’s the best he will get from Zhengting for now.

••••••

Tonight, Beijing’s skyline is saturated with twinkling specks of stars, blending themselves into the vast space. There’s a somber feeling that rises up in Zhengting’s chest as he looks out to the view that presents itself before him. It’s distant, somehow.

It’s almost deja vu-ish, Zhengting thinks as he watches Xukun leans back on the armchair next to him. It seems like centuries ago when they had been in a similar position, unsaid questions dying on their lips.

“How are you feeling?” Xukun asks, eyes glued to the bandages peeking out from Zhengting’s collar.

“I’m fine, Kun. Stop worrying,” Zhengting replies with a crooked smile.

There has a been a change between them, that much is obvious. Neither of them are the same people they were three years ago, but Zhengting thinks that he likes this version of Xukun much better.

“That was an incredibly stupid thing you did, Zhengting,” Xukun says suddenly. “If you wanted to die that bad, you should’ve told me because I would’ve killed you myself. What would have happened if we never found you?”

Ah, the long-awaited scolding. Zhengting takes it in stride.  
  
“But you did,” Zhengting holds his sheepish grin, looking up at Xukun with wide, innocent eyes that are anything but. “You found me. You always have.”  
  
Xukun scoffs.  
  
Zhengting looks awfully small in his current state, the blood from the two wounds in his shoulder and leg now slowly peeking through the bandages that wrap around nearly the entirety of his skinny frame. Xukun has half a thought to try and fatten him up because he doesn’t think Zhengting had gained any weight at all in the three years he’s been gone.  
  
Zhengting doesn’t miss Xukun’s meaningful gaze.  
  
A comfortable silence descends upon them on the balcony, the only sound being the muted background noise of the city. Zhengting’s eyes lazily follow Xukun’s every move as the younger unwraps his bandages with a delicate tenderness he didn’t know Xukun possessed, caressing over his every scratch and bruise as if Zhengting was made of porcelain.  
  
“You know, you’re actually really pretty when you aren’t trying to kill my kids,” Zhengting’s eyes are glazed over, and Xukun guesses that the painkillers must be settling in right about now.  
  
“I’m not pretty,” Xukun says, but there is no bite in his tone and he continues to run the warm cloth down the length of Zhengting’s torso.  
  
“But you are! If things had been different,” Zhengting continues to babble, eyes shining with the smallest glint of mischief. “I would’ve taken you home to show mama and papa if they were still alive. Wanna marry you. Pretty lips, pretty eyes. Pretty Kun.”  
  
Xukun can’t help his own chuckle at how ridiculous Zhengting is being, expressions softening just a bit at the man in front of him who looks nothing like the fearful arms ring dealer he was supposed to be.  
  
“Sweet talk isn’t your line, ‘Ting,” Xukun splashes Zhengting gently with the water from the cleaning bucket, and watches the dopey smile on the elder’s face bloom into a full grin.  
  
Xukun halts his movement to stare at Zhengting, and he thinks that his eyes hold more stars than the sky.

“I was serious, you know." 

Zhengting hums, “About what?”

“About the alliance.” 

Zhengting doesn’t respond, and Xukun almost thinks the older man didn’t hear him.

“Can I ask you something?” Zhengting says instead, and he takes Xukun’s silence as his approval to continue. “Why did you do it? Kill Baekhyun, I mean. And sabotage Yixing. And rebel. Don’t take this as me caring for any of them, but I’m curious.”

Xukun sighs and his expression morphs into something more serious.

“I didn’t know it then, but when you left-  _you-_ you’ve always been a sure thing, y’know. Until you weren’t,” Xukun licks his lips once and Zhengting has to hold himself back from kissing the frown off his face. “You had no idea how angry I was when you left, when you chose to be with them over- over me, I guess. And the more I thought about it, the more it came down to just me being useless because I didn’t have enough power. To give you a choice.”

“Xukun-”

“I kind of figured that once I was at the top, I could somehow convince you to come back to me, that I was strong enough now. But I think even then, I knew you wouldn’t,” Xukun lets out a chuckle and Zhengting thinks it’s almost sad. “You didn’t need my protection. You never have.”

“Kun, listen,” Zhengting murmurs after a beat, as if taking the time to absorb everything Xukun has said. “I tried - am still trying - to keep everyone safe, and ‘everyone’ kind of includes you. Despite what you may think, you’re important to me too. You, Chengcheng, Justin, you’re all important to me. It’s not about choosing, and my choice has always been mine, but I'm a sure thing. I always will be." 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Zhengting feels Xukun’s lips on his before he could even register the younger coming closer. He feels like he’s under a spell, Xukun’s shallow breathing filling him with a desperate sense of longing, one he’s kept locked up inside for far too long. Wings in his chest.

Xukun is bent toward him, closing his eyes to caress Zhengting’s mouth with his own. A soft gasp escapes him as he stiffens, but Xukun doesn’t let up. With a fierce hold, Xukun cups the back of Zhengting’s neck and kisses him deeply, gently, possessive in his touch.

They kiss until the sky feels like it’s about to break open. They’re breathless, panting against one another’s body, but both refusing to let go.

“I love you,” Xukun whispers, as if he’s letting go of a secret, and perhaps it was, but somehow the three words he'd just spoken taste alot more like freedom. “I love you. I know I've never said it before, but I do. So, stay. Just this once, please?”

Zhengting can only nod before he feels gravity pulling himself toward Xukun again, lips molding together until the they both forget where they start and where they begin.

The two of them have chosen this life. By circumstances, by force, it makes no difference now. Zhengting knows that they won’t ever truly rid themselves of their own ghosts even when they die. Perhaps even more so after that, shadows of their pasts trailing their tails. But as his thoughts are drowned out by the warmth of Xukun’s hand in his own, he thinks that he’ll be okay like this. This path is treacherous and reckless and everything Zhengting's ever hoped to avoid, but it’s one he might be willing to take.

After all, Zhengting has always liked his dynamite a little more homemade.

“So does that mean you'll do it? You'll stay with us?”  _With me?_

Xukun doesn't say the last question out loud but his mouth pressed into thin line, hope weighing heavy in his eyes as he shifts forward until his and Zhengting’s faces are merely an inch’s distance from one another.

Captivating, yet just close enough to touch this time. Swirling stars in Zhengting’s hands.

“Hm, that depends on how well you kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD. i still can't believe that it's finally done. a huge grateful thankful to my amazing beta miss ane (@zhengxing) who actually saved my ass bc i cant spell for shit
> 
> i'm so sorry and thankful to everyone who's waited so patiently for each chapter, all of your support means so much to me and i'm so glad that i was able to share this with you. as promised, there will be an epilogue, but it won't be coming super soon or anything since i'm currently abit busy with studying and college apps. every single comment are appreciated and once again, thank you so much!!!! 
> 
> you can come talk to me or yell at me about this fic or zhengting or nine percent or whatever on twitter at @fuxixis!
> 
> thank you!!!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading and I do appreciate comments so please let me know what you thought! If you have questions or just want to talk, i'm on twitter at @tinyvocaiist and @fuxixis ! :)


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